


A Little Bit Like Heaven

by ArtemisRayne



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Romantic Comedy, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. When Tina Cohen-Chang moved into her new rental house, all she wanted was to have a comfortable place for some peace and quiet. Instead she wound up being haunted by the spirit of the former tenant, an obstinate young man named Artie who refused to accept the fact that he's dead. But things change when they realise that there might be more to Artie's story than expected, and that he may not actually be dead at all. </p><p>At least not yet... </p><p>(An Artie/Tina AU story using the plot of "Just Like Heaven.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Into the Light

_The song is back. It's filling the air all around him, making it thrum and vibrate. Artie closes his eyes and lets it seep into him. It's sweet and sad and powerful. Colours explode in the darkness around him, ribbons of sombre blue and flashes of dazzling yellows. This song, this haunting song, is his paradise. He wants nothing more than to just lay here in the blackness and absorb the majesty. Which is exactly why..._

"Yo, Abrams!"

Artie bolted awake, blinking around. He repositioned his glasses on his nose, and the world around him came into focus, showing him the bland, white walls of the hospital's faculty lounge. Ruffling a hand through his hair, he twisted to look up at the figure looming over him. "What's up, Puck?" he asked once he recognised the face of his best friend and co-worker, Noah Puckerman.

"Breaks over, dude," Puck said, laying a chart down on the table Artie was recently using as a pillow. "We just got another rush in the ER. We need you down there."

"Right, I'm coming," Artie said, standing up and grabbing the chart. He used the reflection off the microwave door to hastily comb his hair back down into something manageable and then followed Puck out of the faculty lounge. Down on the first floor, he threw himself into his work and the new influx of patients that appeared during his fifteen-minute nap.

"Okay, Mrs Thatcher, your vitals are all looking good," Artie said, giving the older woman's chart a once-over. "Keep your fever down like this another night, and you'll be on your way back to Sunnyhills in no time."

"Aren't you just the most charming young man," Mrs Thatcher said, and there was something playful and adoring in her wrinkled eyes. "I could really use a man like you around. Would you marry me?"

Artie chuckled and tucked her files away before injecting her antibiotics into the IV line. "Sure thing, Mrs Thatcher, just lemme go get a ring," he responded. With her stage of dementia, he knew she'd forget in five minutes anyway. Just like she had when he'd visited her two hours ago. "I'll be back with that, and we'll run away to Mexico, okay?"

"Hm-kay," Mrs Thatcher said, relaxing back into her pillows and smiling as the antibiotics made her sleepy. Artie passed her off to the nurse and then moved on to his next call.

It was three hours of stitching cuts, treating burns, and putting casts on broken bones. He was so used to the patterns and rhythms that nothing could shake him. He thrived on this sort of work. He loved being with his patients and the speed challenge of keeping up with the never-ending parade of jobs to do. It was dinnertime before he even got another chance to relax and he slipped into the lounge for a cup of coffee to replace his flagging energy levels.

"You heading out?" Artie asked when he spotted Puck slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm off the clock, man," Puck responded. "Gotta get home. I promised Beth I'd help her run lines for her school play after dinner. Aren't you leaving yet? You've been here for like a whole day now."

"Something like that," Artie agreed off-handedly, although it had actually been closer to a day and a half. "Nah, I'm gonna hang around a little longer. I'm covering Rutherford's shift."

Puck laughed and shook his head. "You really want that attending job, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Artie said. "I like it here, in this hospital and this city. I don't want to have to leave Cleveland. But that's not why I'm still here. I just like doing my job."

Puck brow furrowed suspiciously. "You're avoiding something, aren't you?" he concluded, smirking. "Your brother set you up on another blind date?"

For a minute Artie thought about denying it, but then he sighed and nodded. "Some girl who's a friend of a friend," he said. "I really wish he'd stop doing this. I know he means well, but I just don't have the time to worry about things like that. I can get dates for myself, no matter what he thinks. I just don't want to deal with that drama just now."

"Good plan, enjoy being single while you can," Puck said sagely. Artie knew where he was coming from; Puck had a kid early, right out of high school, and although he loved his family there was that part of him that never got to experience being the bachelor. "Hey, well, good luck with your dinner party."

"Yeah, thanks," Artie said unenthusiastically. Puck high-fived him on the way out, and Artie finally turned his attention to the coffee pot. He'd had so many cups during his shift that he would probably die of caffeine poisoning, but it was the only way to keep himself awake.

And even though he wouldn't admit it to anyone else, he really was nervous about getting the attending job. He had pretty good competition in Santana Lopez, the arrogant and manipulative resident who was also in for the position. He might be the better doctor, and he cared about his patients more, but she had a real talent for making people see things her way.

Artie downed the coffee so quickly he scalded his tongue and then dove headlong back into work. In between setting a broken wrist and resuscitating a man in cardiac arrest, he got another marriage proposal from Mrs Thatcher. Then it was a long circle of rounds before a car accident brought in three critically injured people at once. Artie was just cleaning himself up after stabilising them when his mobile rang. He answered it without checking the ID, already knowing who it was.

"Kurt, I'm kind of busy," Artie said, shutting off the sink with his elbow and heading out into the hall.

"No, I don't think so, mister," his older brother responded in a clipped tone. "You promised you were going to come this time."

"I am going to come," Artie insisted, skilfully dodging to the side as a nurse with her arms full of supplies darted passed him.

"Then why are you still at work?" Kurt accused. "Dinner starts in one hour, Artie."

Artie glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath. He hadn't realised it had gotten so late. "Sorry, we had an emergency," he explained.

Kurt snorted derisively. "It's the ER, there's  _always_  an emergency."

"I'll be there," Artie said. "Promise. See you soon." Before Kurt could argue back, Artie snapped his phone shut and tucked it into the pocket of his scrubs. He rounded the corner and promptly ran headlong into the hospital director, Dr Schuester. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir," Artie said hastily. "I didn't see you there."

"You'll have to be a bit more observant from now on," Dr Schuester said. Even though he sounded serious, something was twinkling in his eyes that always made it difficult to tell if he was joking. "I expect my attending doctors to pay a little more attention."

"I'm sorr-" Artie froze midway through his sentence, his eyes widening as the statement sank in. He glanced up at the older doctor in surprise. "Attending?"

"If you still want the job," Dr Schuester said diplomatically.

"I – yes, of course," Artie said eagerly. "Thank you, thank you so much, Dr Schue."

"Now go home," Dr Schuester said.

"What? But I've got another half hour left of my shift," Artie pointed out.

Dr Schuester smirked at him. "You've been here for thirty-six hours now, Dr Abrams," he said. "I think that's more than enough time for one shift. Go home and enjoy your weekend. You start your new position first thing on Monday."

"Thank you, sir," Artie said, shaking the older doctor's hand once before turning and heading back to the lounge. He grabbed his bag, changed from his scrubs to his street clothes in the nearest restroom, and then walked out to his car. The old Mazda he'd had since graduating high school whined as it turned on, and he hastily flicked on the windscreen wipers to battle against the spring rainstorm.

He had just pulled off the highway when his mobile rang again. Impatiently, Artie leant over and dug it out of his bag, which was sitting on the passenger seat. He got just enough of a glance to see his brother's name on the ID before his car jerked roughly to the side. Artie dropped the phone in a panic and sat up, gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands, but the damage was already done. The Mazda was hydroplaning across the slick roadway, and he couldn't get it back under control.

There was a moment of stunning clarity as the world around him snapped into sharp focus. And then he felt the car swerve wildly into the opposite lane, the blaring horn of a diesel engine deafened him, and everything dissolved into white.


	2. The Rental House

Tina paced casually across the living room of the flat, looking around the place pensively. Honestly, the whole thing looked like it should be on the cover of a magazine for modern art, with its abstract shapes and neon-coloured wall decorations. She couldn't imagine anyone actually living in a place like that, let alone being comfortable. She could feel the realtor's eyes on her as she walked over to investigate the living room sofa, but one critical look told her there was no way on earth she was sitting on that. It was a weirdly shaped plastic disaster, with curves that looked like they would cause serious back problems.

"No," she said simply, shaking her head as she turned back to the other woman.

"Alright then, there's still plenty more to look at," the woman, an overly-chipper blonde named Quinn, said and then gestured for Tina to follow her out of the flat. They drove across town to another apartment complex, and when she let Tina into the flat, she was smiling broadly. "I have a feeling you'll really like this one."

Tina looked around the obviously Japanese-inspired place and wondered if she should be offended by the vague racism in Quinn's assumption. Not to mention the fact that she's _Korean_ , not Japanese. Pushing that aside for the time being, she walked around the main room and frowned. "I need a furnished place," she reminded the realtor brusquely.

"It is furnished," Quinn said and gestured pointedly at the cushions on the floor around the small coffee table. Tina's scepticism must have shown on her face because Quinn sighed. "Okay, maybe another place then."

It was a long morning of continually disappointing flats, and the longer it progressed, the less hopeful Tina was that this woman would actually find her a suitable place. She couldn't understand the difficulty; there weren't many requirements. She just needed a simple, furnished place with a comfortable sofa and preferably a decent fridge. Everything beyond that was unnecessary.

By four in the afternoon, Tina had shot down every rental on Quinn's list. As Quinn closed up the building behind them, Tina wrapped her jacket tighter around herself and shook her head in frustration. "Well, I can go through the listings again," Quinn said, scanning her clipboard. "I'll take the information you've given me and compile another list for us, and then I'll call you to set up another day we can look at them."

Tina nodded and was about to turn away when she felt something hit her leg. Curious, she glanced down and saw a piece of brightly coloured paper wrapped around her calf. She pulled it off and tossed it away, but a second later a gust of wind caught it and blew it against her chest.

"What the-?" she grumbled, snatching at the paper again. She flipped it over, and the top line caught her attention:  **Cottage for Lease.**  She browsed down the rest of the page and then looked up at Quinn. "What about this place?" she asked, handing the flyer out to the realtor.

Quinn took the paper, frowning, and Tina watched as her eyes panned down it. "This is right across from here," she murmured, turning around and staring across the street. "It's that building, there."

She pointed at a little house on the opposite street, and Tina examined it eagerly. It was a small place with a narrow porch and short hedges fencing in the property. Tina felt something in her chest twitch in anticipation. "I want to see it," she said immediately.

"Wha- now? I thought you wanted a flat?" Quinn asked, flustered. Tina gave her a pointed look and Quinn pulled out her cell phone. "Let me call the leaseholder and see if we can set something up." She walked a few steps away and dialled the number on the bottom of the page. Tina didn't pay her much attention as she talked to the other person, but a minute later, she'd hung up. "Alright, I've got the code, let's go."

They crossed the street and Quinn keyed in the code for the electronic lockbox, letting them into the little house. Tina stepped around her, looking around in awe. There was nothing all that remarkable about the house. It was straightforward and square, with basic furniture and adequate space. "What's the deal with the place?" Tina asked.

"You're in luck," Quinn replied. "The owners are just looking for someone to sublet, on a month-by-month basis. They say everything in it comes with the place."

Tina looked around suspiciously, noting that it was more furnished than most rentals and that there were several personal trinkets littered around the place. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Quinn said quickly, and then softened. "The guy was pretty tight-lipped about it, just said something about family troubles."

Tina nodded, digesting that information. She quickly perused the kitchen and the bedroom and then moved to another closed door. Curious, she opened it, and the room beyond made her eyes widen in surprise. It was enormous, larger than even the bedroom, and the entire back wall was made of floor-to-ceiling ornate French windows that opened onto a wide patio, edged in by flowers and trees that had nearly lost all of their leaves.

"My God, what a gorgeous room," Quinn said, stepping in behind Tina. "Wonder why they never did anything with it?"

"Nice acoustics," Tina noted, listening to the reverberating of their voices off the walls. Unconcerned with the purpose of the room, she turned around and went back out into the living room. It had an excellent flat-screen television hung on the wall, and opposite was a sofa that looked like it had been well-used. Tina slipped down into the cushions and almost let out a sigh as it practically enveloped her.

Something about the place felt –  _right_.

"I'll take it," she decided.

"Great," Quinn said excitedly. "I'll call them back right now."

* * *

Two days later the paperwork had been finalised, and Tina had moved her few belongings into her new house. The moment she was settled, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and made herself comfortable on the couch. She wrapped herself in the throw blanket, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television. The video she'd inserted started playing, and she took a drink straight from the bottle, relishing in the taste as the bitter wine made her throat tingle. She slumped back into the cushions and watched the smiling couple on the screen with a sort of numbness she couldn't explain. When the film ended, she started it over from the beginning without pause, and she drank and watched until she was eventually unable to take it any longer and she went to bed.

The routine was repeated the next day, and the day after, until it became a habit. She would drag herself up in the morning, and then lounge on the sofa with a beer or wine. She lived off of delivery food because she couldn't be bothered to cook, and she hardly ever wore anything but pyjamas or sweat pants.

Time blurred, and before she knew it, she'd been living in her new place for two weeks. As usual, she was curled on the sofa with a bottle of cheap wine. The sun sank beyond the horizon outside as the bottle in her hand got gradually lighter. At some point, around the time the happy lovers were exchanging vows on the screen, she drifted off with the movie as a backdrop. Her dreams were filled with beautiful spring days, and bright flowers, and the soft music, and she never wanted it to end.

" _Get out_!"

Tina bolted awake, looking for the voice, but there was no one in the room. Passing it off as her imagination, she untangled herself from the blankets and wandered into the kitchen. She set the empty wine bottle on the table and pulled a beer from the fridge to replace it. Determined to get back to her comfortable spot, she turned around and immediately found herself face-to-face with another person.

Tina screamed and the man in front of her did the same as they both jumped backwards away from each other. The bottle of Heineken slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor, splashing a wave of amber liquid over her bare feet. "Who the hell are you?" she asked breathlessly.

"Who are _you_?" the man echoed, his posture defensive. He was just a bit taller than her, with brown hair swept over his forehead and a pair of black, thick-framed glasses perched on his nose. "Look, there's nothing worth stealing here so you may as well just leave."

"I'm not the one stealing things," Tina said in alarm. "I live here."

The man snorted. "That's impossible," he said. "I live here."

"Since when?" Tina asked hysterically.

"Since I signed the lease," the man said. "Look, I'll give you some money for a cab ride down to the shelter if that's what you're looking for." His gaze slid down to the broken bottle on the floor, and he made an impatient noise. "I'm getting a mop before that warps the wood." He walked around Tina and slipped into the kitchen. After a second's hesitation, Tina followed.

He was gone.

"What the-?" Tina looked around the room, half-expecting to see him hiding in some corner, but the room was empty. Confused, she walked through to the hall and checked, but there was no sign of him. She scoured the rest of the house but she was alone, and when she checked the door it was locked from the inside.

"That was trippy," she said, shaking her head. The movement made the world spin, and she braced herself on the wall. "Too much wine," she concluded.

She mopped up the beer bottle and then went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. She needed to clear her head, that's all. The hot water worked over her tense muscles, tight from her nap on the couch, and she let the stress wash away. Once she'd used up all of the hot water, she shut off the shower and wrapped a towel around herself.

Twisting the water out of her hair, Tina tiptoed over to the sink and used her free hand to wipe away the mist on the mirror. She caught a quick glance of another face over her shoulder, and at the same time the man said, "I told you to leave." Tina yelped and spun around, but there was no one there.

"Sleep it off," Tina told herself. "Just need to sleep it off." She hurried through drying off and dressing, unable to shake the fear that the man might suddenly just reappear while she was towelling off, and then promptly fell into bed. The exhaustion and the alcohol took over almost immediately, and within minutes she was fast asleep.

_It was warm, and the air smelled like honeysuckle. Tina felt arms circle her waist, and she leant back into the familiar embrace. "I've missed you," she murmured into the spring air. The only response she got was an amused hum, the same playful lilt that seemed to tone his every word. His body began to sway behind her, his grip on her waist dragging her along as he moved them both in a simple waltz step. They moved together seamlessly, with the sort of ease that could only come from real chemistry._

_And then, suddenly, he was pulling away. Tina turned just in time to watch him crumple to the ground and then everything disappeared into the darkness._

"No!" She bolted up in bed, reaching out for something that wasn't there. It took her a few disoriented seconds to get her bearings, but when she did, she groaned and slumped back into the pillows again. She glanced over at the alarm clock and wrinkled her nose when she saw it was already three in the afternoon. She'd been asleep for eleven hours.

Tina lounged in bed for a while longer, before the pressure in her bladder forced her to finally drag herself out from beneath the blankets. Once she'd done her business, she made the habitual migration to the sofa, stopping only to grab a cold beer from the fridge.

"Go away!"

Tina pivoted around and caught just the faintest flash of colour stepping behind the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. She jogged out there but, just like before, it was empty. "This is getting ridiculous," she muttered. For a minute, she stood and contemplated the situation, and then she set the beer down on the coffee table. It took some rummaging to find it, but she eventually dug up her mobile and made the call she'd been dreading.

* * *

At seven o'clock that evening, Tina found herself sitting alone at a table outside of a local coffee shop. She drummed her fingers against the Formica tabletop in a hectic rhythm, while beneath the table her leg was bouncing in anticipation. The waitress stopped by to refill her cup, and Tina muttered a distracted thank you before going right back to her agitated waiting game.

"What's got you all worked up, girl?" Tina jumped at the voice and looked up, letting out a grateful breath when she saw her best friend slide into the seat opposite her.

"Mercedes, hey," Tina said. Her best friend was a heavier-set black woman, with more attitude than most girl pop groups combined and a sixth sense for accessories.

"Seriously, girl, did you get electrocuted or something? I don't think I've ever seen you so twitchy," Mercedes said, gesturing the waitress over so she could order a coffee for herself. "What's up? You told me you needed to talk to me about something."

"This is completely confidential," Tina said.

"Wait, I'm here as your shrink then?" Mercedes asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, you're here as my best friend who just happens to be a therapist," Tina countered. "I can't afford to have you here as a shrink." Tina twisted her cup around on the table, trying to find the right way to phrase what she needed to say. "I've been –  _seeing_ someone," she said slowly.

Mercedes' eyes widened, and a grin split her face. "About time, girl!" she said enthusiastically. "I mean, it has been more than a year and a half now. It's time you start getting out there again. So, who is he?"

"No, not like that," Tina hurried to clarify. "I didn't mean I'm dating someone. I mean, like I'm literally _seeing_ someone. Someone who's not really there."

Mercedes paused in the process of lifting her coffee cup to her mouth and surveyed her critically. "So, like, a hallucination?" she asked.

"I think so," Tina admitted. "I'm not really sure. He's not around all the time, and it's just started since I moved into my new place."

"He," Mercedes said thoughtfully. "Is he cute?"

"Seriously, M?" Tina asked incredulously. "He's not real. Does it really matter if he's attractive?"

Mercedes held up her hands in surrender. "I was just checking," she said. "If he was hot, could've been your sexual frustration coming out. It has been a while, you know."

"I'm aware," Tina said, rolling her eyes. "It's not that, trust me."

"Mm-hmm." Mercedes stirred a packet of sugar into her coffee. "Okay, now don't go gettin' offended on me, but I gotta ask. Had you been drinking when you imagined you were seeing this guy?"

"A little," Tina admitted. Mercedes arched an eyebrow. "I was kinda buzzed, I guess."

"I can't help you if you aren't honest with me," Mercedes pointed out.

Tina sighed. "Okay, I was totally wasted. So what, I just stop drinking?"

Mercedes snorted, shaking her head. "Absolutely not, girl," she said. "Just try drinking out in public for a change, would you? Get out, socialise, make-out with some half-drunk guy in a bar. Anything. Honey, you know I love you, but you have got to start working yourself back into the real world again. It's been over a year, and I still hardly ever see you. I mean, you completely bailed on that date I set you up on last spring, and you haven't even tried again since. Get out and do something, girl."

"You think?" Tina asked uncertainly.

"Look, you are suffering from a mild psychotic break," Mercedes said flatly. "That's your brain's way of telling you that it can't handle any more of this lurking in the darkness way of dealing with things anymore. It's time to start moving on."

Tina nodded, straightening up in her chair. "Yeah, maybe you're right," she agreed. "I just need some fresh air, that's all."

"That's my girl," Mercedes said, reaching across the table to squeeze her forearm reassuringly. "Now what do you say we go have a girl's night? I wanna get my nails done, and maybe we can get you some new coloured extensions. You haven't rocked those in a while."

Tina smiled and drained the last of her coffee. "Yeah, that sounds great. Let's do this."

Four hours later, Tina let herself back into the house and flicked on the living room light. It had been a good night out with Mercedes. They'd gone to a salon and gotten mani-pedis, and while Mercedes had her weave touched up, Tina had gotten a new set of blue hair extensions threaded in. She felt more like herself, more like the person she had been before everything went wrong.

Humming under her breath, she toed out of her boots and wandered into the bedroom. She changed into her favourite pyjamas and threw her hair up into a hasty ponytail, content to spend the rest of the evening on the couch with a good book. She was going to move on and put this all behind her.


	3. A Pest Problem

The next two days went by without incident. Although Tina kept an eye out, she didn't see even the slightest indication that the imaginary man was hanging around. Maybe Mercedes had been right, and all she'd needed was a little fresh air to clear her head.

By the third night, she was thoroughly convinced that whatever little nervous breakdown she'd been suffering through was over. She was relaxed for the first time in days as she went about her usual routine without constantly looking over her shoulder. It was a nice change, and she was looking forward to her new lifestyle. She changed into her favourite pyjamas and climbed onto the bed, sprawling out across the soft sheets.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

Tina jumped and looked up, and then a groan left her when she saw the man was standing at the foot of the bed. "I didn't want to do this, but I'm calling the cops," he said.

"This is a dream," Tina reminded herself, rolling onto her side again and dragging the spare pillow over her head. "It's just one of those weird dreams where you think you're awake, that's all."

"Seriously, how do you keep getting in here?" the man asked in exasperation. "There's like three bolts on the door."

"It's not me," Tina insisted. "It's you, and you're just in my head. You're not real."

The man sighed heavily. "Wow, this is worse than I thought," he murmured, and then cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm going to ask you a couple questions, and I want you to be honest here. This whole alcoholism thing you've got going on, has that recently taken an upswing?"

"Yes," Tina said, burying her face further into the pillow. Why was she even responding? He wasn't real.

"Right, and have you been hearing or seeing things that aren't real?" the man persisted.

"At this very moment, actually," she responded, lifting the pillow slightly to give him a pointed look.

The man frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "Been to see a therapist yet?"

"How'd you know?" Tina asked, sitting up and pressing herself back against the headboard. Was this guy stalking her? How else could he know she'd gone to see Mercedes?

"And I can see clearly there's some paranoia going on," the man continued. He walked around and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "I think you need to accept the fact that you are mentally ill. You've created this fantasy where you rented this house, which actually belongs to me. For example, that pillow you're holding, it's got a purple stain on the case where I spilt a grape soda."

Tina flipped over the pillow in her lap, and her eyes immediately landed on a place where the grey cotton had been discoloured. The man nodded pointedly. "Also, there's an index card taped to the bottom of that nightstand drawer with all of my internet passwords written on it, so I don't forget them," he continued. "How else could I know that? This is my house, and these are my things. The bed; the nightstand; that picture."

He glanced over at the opposite nightstand and then froze, scowling. The nightstand was bare except for an empty wine glass and a lamp. "Where's my picture?" he asked, standing up immediately.

"There is no picture," Tina rebutted. "There was nothing there when I moved in."

"No, that's where my picture goes," the man said. "It's been there forever. It's a picture of – well, it's mine, and it's supposed to be there." He bounced on the balls of his feet and then shook his head. "Okay, that's it, I'm calling the police." He strode over to the phone sitting on the dresser and snatched at it, but his hand passed straight through. "What?"

"I don't know," Tina said, staring in awe. He grabbed at the phone four more times, but his hands kept passing through it without affecting it.

"Fine, I'll go use the one in the kitchen," he said, glaring at Tina like she'd done something to cause it. He turned on his heel and headed for the door, but before he'd even reached it, he had faded into nothing.

"What the-?" Tina gawked at the doorway where he'd been just seconds before and then shook her head. So much for putting this all behind her. There was definitely something more going on, and she was determined to find out just what.

The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep, Tina dialled a familiar number. It rang twice before the other end picked up. "Quinn Fabray speaking," came the perky response.

"Hey Quinn, it's Tina Cohen-Chang," she said awkwardly. "I had a question about the house."

"Is something wrong?" Quinn asked anxiously.

"No, not really," Tina said. "It's just – what do you know about the previous tenant?"

Quinn hummed thoughtfully. "Not a whole lot. The guy I talked to just said it was some sort of family tragedy. I didn't really want to pry, it's not like their drama is my concern, really."

"A tragedy," Tina echoed. "You mean the guy who owned it died?"

"You'd better hope so," Quinn said briskly. "That's the only way they'll let the place go for good so you can get off that month-to-month lease."

Tina made an indistinct sound, slightly disturbed by that answer. "Right, well thanks, that's all I needed to know." She hung up the call and then immediately grabbed the phone directory from the kitchen counter. If it was a ghost problem she was having, there were places she could get help.

* * *

Tina hesitated on the pavement, looking up at the tiny building in front of her. It was a cramped and narrow place, stuffed in between a RadioShack and a seedy pawn shop. The flourished script on the front window declared  _Gold Star Bookstore – Occult and Metaphysical._  It was brighter and overall more cheerful than she expected from a bookstore about ghosts and aliens. Shaking her head, she went inside.

The whole place gave off the feel of a grandmother's sitting room combined with a library. The walls were decorated with glittering crystals on strings, and a wide variety of wind chimes hung from the ceiling, all of them tinkling gently despite the lack of a breeze inside. Tina glanced up at the headings on the ends of the bookshelves until she finally spotted the one that read 'Ghosts.'

It stunned her just how many books there were on the subject; from books about how to detect them, to séances, to vanquishing them. There even seemed to be an extensive collection on just how to pass on, which Tina couldn't make much sense of. Did ghosts generally come into the store and buy books on how to cross over? Brushing that thought aside, Tina started browsing through the rows, looking for something that might help her.

"Can I help you find anything?"

"No," Tina answered reflexively. She glanced sideways at the woman who'd popped up beside her without her noticing. The other woman was only slightly shorter than Tina, with long brown hair and a disarmingly bright smile. She was dressed in an old, polka dotted dress that Tina would've expected to see on someone at least twice her age. There was a nametag in the shape of a golden star pinned to her blouse, which read  _Rachel_. "I'm just looking," Tina added to soften her refusal.

Rachel shot a quick look at the books and her smile quirked. "I see," she said pointedly. "I'm a little bit psychic, you know. What kind of ghost encounter have you had? Ectoplasm? Ouija board? Marselan wrote an excellent book on séances if you want to get into contact with the spirit."

Tina snorted. "No, he's already pretty good at communicating," she said. "I'm more interested in getting him to shut up."

"Fascinating," Rachel said, beaming again. "Alright then, I think I can find something to help you." She scoured through the shelves, pulling out books seemingly at random and stacking them in Tina's arms. Fifteen minutes later, Tina left the shop with nine new books about ghosts, determined to find a way to make hers go away.

When she'd gotten home, she arranged the candles in a circle on the floor, copying the diagram she'd seen in one of the books. The conflicting scents made the air thick, since she hadn't thought to go to another store and buy a set of unscented ones so she'd had to use her own collection, and her head was aching just from breathing. Sitting down in the middle of the circle, she lifted another candle.

"Spirit, come forth," she declared into the empty room, trying to inject some authority to her voice. She glanced around, but nothing had happened. Repeating the gesture she'd made with the candle, she said, "Spirit, I call you to me." Still nothing.

Getting annoyed, Tina picked up her coffee mug and tipped it ominously. "Hey ghost guy, I'm going to just go ahead and pour this coffee on the floor, okay?" she shouted. "It might warp the floor a little, but it's not that big a deal, right?"

"What's your problem?"

Tina quickly straightened up the ceramic mug, looking up to see the man standing over her and giving her an incredulous look. "How did I know that would work?" she murmured to herself, standing up and setting the mug on a side table. "Okay, let's try this then," she said. "Hi, my name's Tina. What's yours?"

"It's – my name is-" the man hesitated, his eyes casting around before finally landing on something. "Artie. It's Artie."

Tina followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at the handmade coffee mug she'd been drinking from. It had been in the cupboard when she'd moved in, and the name Artie was painted onto the side in red. "You didn't know that," Tina concluded.

"Of course I did," Artie argued. "I know my own name."

"Right, well, Artie is there anything different about your life recently that you might've noticed?" Tina pressed.

"You mean like having a crazy chick hanging around in my house?" he said sarcastically.

"Have you talked to anyone recently, that wasn't me, I mean," Tina continued. "And where have you been going when you aren't here?"

"I've talked to people," Artie said. "Just the other day I was – I was out talking to people."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Tina said, humouring him. "You don't think that maybe there's been some big, dramatic thing that happened in your life recently, do you? Maybe like, dying?"

Artie stared at her incredulously. "Of course not," he said. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you're haunting me," Tina said. "So look around. Is there some kind of white light nearby? You should go walk into it and leave me alone."

"I'm not dead," Artie said firmly. "I would know if I was dead."

"Oh yeah?" Tina said challengingly. She picked up one of her ghost books and threw it at his chest. Artie lifted his hands to catch it, but instead, the book sailed right through him and hit the wall with a thud.

"What just happened?" Artie asked in alarm, looking first at his chest and then behind him to where the book was laying on the floor.

"You're a ghost!" Tina shouted in frustration. "You're dead. Now move on already."

"I'm not dead!" he yelled back, and he stormed away, walking straight through the sofa in the process. He paused when he'd reached the other side of the room and looked back at her with a scowl. "No, I'm not dead. This is my house, and I'm not leaving."

"Suit yourself," Tina snapped. She went around the room and blew out all of the candles, and then settled down on the sofa with her reading book. Artie sat down on the armchair opposite her, and for a minute Tina thought she might have some peace.

And then he started humming.

"Oh God," Tina muttered. "Really?"

Artie smirked, sitting cross-legged in the armchair, and kept humming without pause. It only took her a second to recognise the Beatles song, and if she weren't so insanely irritated by his presence, she wouldn't have minded the sound. He could at least carry a tune. Of course, all of that was cancelled out by the fact that he was a ghost who wouldn't leave her alone.

Slamming her book shut, Tina grabbed the remote and turned on the television just in time to catch the evening news report. She turned the volume up a few clicks, and in response, Artie hummed louder. Scowling, she turned it up louder. Artie broke into song, singing along animatedly to drown out the television. Even after she'd turned the machine up to its full volume, he found a way to make himself noisier.

"My God, you are irritating," Tina snapped, shutting off the television. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer can from the fridge.

"Another?" Artie asked with an arched eyebrow. "Wow, Tee, hate to break it to you but I think you have a drinking problem."

"Don't call me Tee," she said shortly, popping the can open and taking a long swallow. Artie cocked a hip and watched her with his arms folded over his chest as she finished the beer in two swallows. Tina set the can on the countertop, smirking at the annoyed glance he gave her for it.

Turning her back on him, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw him hovering in the doorway. "Really? You're actually going to watch me shower?" she asked. "Pervert."

"Hot-blooded male," he responded with a casual shrug.

Tina regarded him for a second and then dragged her top off deliberately slow, watching him. He looked like the geeky sort, the kind of guy who would get embarrassed at the sight of skin and turn away. His cheeks turned pink as he stared back at her, but he didn't look away. Testing him, Tina unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Artie's eyes widened slightly, but that was the only response he gave.

"Fine," Tina hissed mutinously. Stepping awkwardly into the edge of the shower, she went about washing herself as best as she could while still wearing her underwear. Apparently she couldn't embarrass this guy into leaving. When she'd finished wringing the soapy water out of her hair, Tina dried herself off, switching into dry underwear beneath her towel where he wouldn't see, and changed into her pyjamas.

To her chagrin, he tailed her into the bedroom as well, making himself comfortable on the foot of the bed when she'd climbed under the blankets. There were a few minutes of silence, and Tina was just about to drift off when Artie started humming under his breath again. Tina growled and dragged the pillow over the top of her head again, trying to muffle the noise. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that he might have laughed at her.

It was a long night for Tina, who slept in only short bursts when Artie would occasionally stop humming. She thought he might have disappeared for a while because it got so quiet, but she didn't dare to check just in case the motion caught his attention, and he started up again. After only being asleep for about two hours, she was woken up at first light by Artie singing the "Good Morning" song from  _Singing in the Rain._

"You have got to be the single most obnoxious person I have ever met," Tina yelled irritably. A quick glance at the clock showed her it was barely six in the morning, a time of the day she hadn't seen in months.

"You must not have met too many people," Artie remarked unconcernedly. When Tina sat up, she found him dancing around as he hummed the upbeat song, and her patience snapped. No one had any right to be so damn happy at so early in the morning, especially not if it was going to interrupt her sleep.

"Okay, that's in," Tina said. "I tried to do this nicely, but I'm done. You've got to go."

It was time to call in the reinforcements.

* * *

The first person she called to come over was Father Figgins, a local Catholic priest who claimed to be a skilled exorcist. She believed him all the way up until he started throwing Holy Water a good six feet to the left of where Artie was standing and watching the whole thing in amusement. "And people wonder why I think church is a scam," Artie said, shaking his head.

"By the power of God, begone demon spirit!" Father Figgins bellowed, splashing out another wave of the Holy Water onto the living room floor.

"You're mopping this up," Artie said and then rolled his eyes and walked away.

The next person that came was a group of Middle Eastern mystics. Tina couldn't rightly understand what their method was, except that it seemed to involve an awful lot of burning incense and strange paper symbols placed around the room.

"Bet that smells good," Artie said, looking at a bowl that held three different incense sticks. Tina didn't bother responding, too busy concentrating on not inhaling the noxious odour. "Oh, I should probably have mentioned," Artie started abruptly, "that the smoke alarms in this place are really sensitive."

And not five seconds later, the air was split by shrill beeping. Tina let her head fall into her hands as the mystics began shouting to each other in their native language before bolting for the door. "Told you so," Artie said with a smug grin.

Tina had just gotten the house aired out when the third attempt showed up; a group of professional ghost hunters. They came in carrying a lot of technical equipment that beeped and fizzed as they wandered around the house. She could tell that by this point Artie was just purposely trying to spite her because he spent the entire time following the lead hunter around and making ghost noises. The hunters, of course, turned out to be complete hacks and they told her that they'd captured the ghost in a clear plastic box while Artie laughed loudly right beside her.

"Well, that was effective," Artie said after she'd shown the ghost hunters out of the house. "That was kind of fun. We should do that again sometime."

"I'm not done yet," Tina said, struck by sudden inspiration. "There's one more person I can try."


	4. Conflict Resolution

The knock on the door made Tina look up eagerly, and she hurried to answer it. She opened the door and saw the young woman from the bookstore standing on the front step. "Thanks for coming," Tina said gratefully.

"I always answer the call to use my gifts for the aide of another," Rachel responded primly. Tina led her into the living room and offered her a seat on the sofa. Rachel sat down, crossing her ankles and surveying the room curiously.

"Wow," Artie said, staring at the woman with wide eyes. "Where did you dig this one up? She somehow looks simultaneously like a toddler and a grandma."

Tina bit back her amusement at the comment as she watched Rachel close her eyes and take a deep breath. She waited in anticipation for several minutes, but Rachel did nothing except sit there and breathe. "Wait, is that it?" Tina asked, confused. "You're just going to sit there and meditate?"

"I'm establishing contact," Rachel said, opening one eye to glare at her before promptly shutting it again. "Yes, there's definitely a strong presence in this place. I can feel it in the aura around us."

"That's convincing," Artie said dryly, dropping into an armchair and folding his legs up in front of him. "I wonder what she'll say next. Maybe, 'I see dead people.'"

Tina shot an annoyed glance at him before turning her attention back to Rachel. "It's a strong spirit," Rachel announced. "And very hostile."

"Well, that much at least is true," Artie agreed.

"It wants you out of this place," Rachel said, opening her eyes finally. "It doesn't want you here."

Artie cocked his head to the side. "Huh, actually she's kinda good at this," he said.

Rachel paused thoughtfully and then said, "You should move."

"Move?" Tina asked in surprise.

"She's got a gift," Artie said enthusiastically. "You should listen to her, she knows what she's talking about."

"Oh shut it, you," Tina snapped at him. "What do you mean, _move_?"

"Your being here is upsetting the spirit," Rachel said. "I think it would be in the best interest of all if you relocated. Also, I'm incredibly thirsty. Could I have a glass of water?"

Tina hesitated, on the verge of arguing, and then threw her hands up in surrender. "Yeah, sure, come on then," she said, gesturing for Rachel to follow her into the kitchen. She didn't fail to notice that Artie tagged along with a smile on his face. Tina filled a glass for Rachel and watched as the diminutive woman drained it all at once. "There's got to be some other option, I don't want to move. He is just hanging around here and won't accept the fact that he's dead. Can't you just make him move on or something?"

"I agree with your spirit," Rachel said. "This is the most alive spiritual presence I have ever felt. I don't think that he's dead."

"I told you!" Artie declared excitedly.

"In fact, his aura is more alive than yours is," Rachel continued. "You are surrounded by darkness, and it is killing you. It is time to release all of those shadows. You need to let him go."

"I can't because he won't leave me alone," Tina said in frustration. "That's why I called you."

Rachel shook her head. "No, not that man," she insisted. "I'm talking about the one in your heart, the one that you can't bring yourself to let go of still."

Artie made a loud noise of comprehension. "You got dumped," he said in surprise. "Is that why you're so uptight?"

"Shut it!" Tina growled, and then she rounded on Rachel. "I'm not talking about that."

"Oh my God, that's what it is," Artie cut in. "Your boyfriend dumped you, and now you're this angry, bitter, alcoholic hermit. Did he leave you for the cheerleader or something?"

"I told you to shut the hell up!" Tina shouted, her voice cracking as the emotion swelled in her. Unable to face them any longer, she stormed out of the kitchen.

Rachel cleared her throat, her eyes casting aimlessly around the kitchen. "Just a suggestion, Spirit, but you should probably show a little more respect for the dead." And then, without another word, she walked out to the living room, grabbed her coat, and left the house.

Artie stood in the kitchen, staring down at his hands as he took in what she'd said. The dead? Did she mean that the man Tina was talking about was dead? He felt guilt twist in his stomach. Boy, he had really put his foot in his mouth this time.

He followed the direction that Tina had gone and found her in the open spare room on the back of the house. She was sitting in one of the wrought-iron chairs on the back patio, her legs tucked up to her chest and her arms wrapped around herself protectively. Artie walked over awkwardly, stopping in the doorframe.

"This room's the whole reason I bought the place," he admitted quietly. "I was going to turn it into a music studio, get back into music the way I used to be. I just got busy and never got around to actually doing it." Tina nodded her head shortly, which Artie took to mean that she was listening. "So, uh, who was that chick talking about?"

Tina stood up, rubbing her hands under her eyes quickly. "His name was Mike," she said curtly. "And he was my husband." Before Artie could even process the information, she had marched passed him. He felt something strange and cool curling in his chest, and the world around him blurred into darkness.

When it reshaped, he was standing on the pavement in front of an unfamiliar bar, and Tina was heading straight for the doors. "No, wait," Artie said, jogging over and stepping in front of her. "C'mon, do you really want to do this? Drinking isn't going to fix everything."

"It sure helps, though," Tina said and walked straight through him into the bar. Artie groaned and chased after her. She was being greeted by a curvy black woman, who seemed to be introducing Tina to a handful of other people that looked like they already had a pretty good buzz going.

"Good to have you back, girl," the black woman said loudly. "C'mon, get yourself a drink and join us. We're gonna go find us some guys to bust a move with."

"Martini," Tina said to the bartender.

"Try a coffee, or maybe even water," Artie suggested.

"Make it extra dirty," Tina shouted after the man and then gave Artie a daring look. A minute later, the bartender came back and set the glass on the counter in front of Tina.

"I'm serious, you don't want to drink that," Artie said.

"Yes, actually, I do," Tina said.

The black woman gave her a strange look and stepped closer. "You doing okay?" she asked in a whisper. "Still having trouble with those hallucinations?"

"No, I'm great," Tina said, a bit too loudly, and grabbed her drink.

"Put it down," Artie warned.

"Make me," she spat. Artie hesitated, watching her lift the glass higher, and then on a split-second decision, he leapt forward. He had no idea what he was doing, but he somehow managed to meld himself into her just enough to get control of her arm. Focusing all of his attention, he forced her to slam the glass down onto the counter again.

"Stop it!" Tina hissed. She reached for it with the other arm, but Artie made her move the glass out of her own reach. They struggled for a minute longer, Artie constantly moving the glass so she couldn't get at her drink, and the black woman watched the entire time with a dumbfounded expression.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Tina said, gritting her teeth as her right arm wrestled with her left to get at the martini. Getting tired of the game, Artie jerked her arm to the side and sent the alcohol spilling out over the counter.

"Watch it!" the black girl shrieked, jumping backwards to avoid getting any on her shoes.

Artie pulled all of his focus and managed to get Tina to turn around. She fought with him the entire way out of the building, until they had reached the pavement and Artie released his hold on her. His body slipped out of hers, and he took a grateful breath at feeling more substantial again.

"What the hell?" Tina said, rounding on him.

"You'll thank me for that in the morning," Artie said with a shrug.

"For making me look like a total spaz?" she asked him hysterically. "Yeah, I'm sure." With a growl of rage, she started off down the pavement at a brisk walk. Artie was ready to call it a night and let her brood about her problem on her own, but the moment she started passing out of eyesight the same enveloping shadows wrapped around him, and he faded into them.

When he came back into himself, he was sitting on a bench in the middle of a twilit park, with Tina on his left. She glanced sideways and seemed to jump at seeing him, but he wasn't paying attention. It had happened again. Now that he knew to look for it, he realised that it had been happening all along. Every time he was away from Tina, he just – _vanished_.

"I think you're right," he admitted aloud. "I think I am dead."

"What was your first clue?" Tina asked sarcastically.

"It's like whenever I'm not around you, I just don't exist at all," Artie answered even though he knew the question had been rhetorical. "This is driving me insane. I don't know who I am, or anything about myself. And you're the only person who can see or hear me. I just wish I knew something about myself."

He looked over hopefully, but when Tina caught his look, she shook her head. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she said incredulously. "You can't seriously be asking me to help you."

"The way I see it, you help me figure all of this out, and then I'm gone," he pointed out. "I move on or whatever, and you don't have to deal with me anymore. I can't figure this out on my own. If you help, we can get this solved faster, and you can get rid of me that much quicker."

Tina dragged a hand through her hair, seeming to consider it, and then finally she sighed. "Alright, fine," she said. "I help you figure out who you are, and you stop haunting me."

"Deal," Artie said, holding out his hand flat. Tina stared at him for a minute before her lips quirked just slightly and she extended her own hand.

"Oh wait," she said abruptly, stopping her hand just inches from his. "A condition of this agreement; you let me sleep in peace. I am not going to be able to do this as exhausted as I am right now. Got it?"

"Fair enough," Artie agreed, nodding.

"Good." She held her palm up flat next to where his should have been. Their hands seemed to blur together, and for the slightest second Artie thought he almost felt something, but then the moment passed, and they separated their hands. Tina smiled and stood up. "Okay, Sherlock, where do we start?"


	5. Dead Ends

"You sure about this?" Tina asked, bouncing on her heels on the front step.

"Sure," Artie said. "I lived in that house for years so my neighbours must have some idea of who I am."

Tina nodded, looking up at the door in front of her, and then knocked. It took a minute before someone answered, but when the door opened, she promptly stepped back. There was a blonde girl, dressed in a short skirt and tight tank top. She didn't fail to notice that Artie straightened up in interest. "Yeah, I think I definitely knew this girl," he said with a grin.

Tina fought the urge to shoot him a disgusted look and smiled at the blonde. "Hi, sorry to bother you," she said. "I just moved into that house next-door and was I just wondering if you knew anything about the last person who lived there."

"Someone lived there?" the blonde asked in confusion.

"Ouch," Artie said, wincing.

"Oh yeah, I think I remember seeing him a couple times," the woman continued. "He wasn't around much, though, I never actually met him." The blonde looked around suspiciously and then leant in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure he was a robot."

"A robot?" Tina repeated in shock as Artie made a loud, exasperated noise from behind her.

"Yeah," the blonde said. "Whenever I saw him, he always looked all stiff and exhausted. I think he just came back to the house to, like, recharge his batteries."

"My God, I lived next-door to a nutcase," Artie said. "Okay, that's enough from her. Let's go."

"Right," Tina said. "Well thanks, it was nice to meet you..."

"Brittany," the blonde supplied with a grin. "Be careful, you never know what robot stuff is still left in that house."

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for that," Tina said, trying not to laugh. "Thanks again. See ya." She turned around and finally let the grin show. "Well, there you go, Artie. You're a robot."

"Ha ha," he replied dryly. "I think that woman needs to be on a Thorazine drip. C'mon, let's try the other neighbour."

The building on the other side was a duplex house. No one answered at the first door, but the second door was answered by a shirtless blonde man that made Tina's jaw drop. He was wearing only a pair of gym shorts and had the sort of abs that belonged on Bowflex commercials. "Hey there," he greeted, eyeing her a bit obviously.

"Uh, hi," Tina said, stuttering slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"You have got to be kidding me," Artie said flatly.

"What can I do for you?" the blonde man asked, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Tina let her eyes linger a second longer on his washboard stomach before Artie cleared his throat impatiently and she jerked back to reality. "My name's Tina, and I just moved into the house next-door," she explained.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood," he replied. "The name's Sam."

"I was just wondering if you knew anything about the guy who lived there before me," Tina said, trying to focus.

Sam frowned his slightly over-large lips and shrugged. "Not a whole lot, he wasn't really a social kind of guy," he said. "He was always coming and going at weird hours. I don't think I ever saw anyone else go over there either. He was some kind of a loner." Sam bit his bottom lip and then grinned. "Hey, I just made a pot of coffee. You want to come in and, uh, have some?"

"Wow," Artie said blankly. "That was forward."

"No thanks," Tina said, smiling awkwardly. "I should probably be going. But thanks for everything."

"Alright, well, if you change your mind feel free to drop by anytime," Sam said.

Artie laughed humourlessly as Tina turned and walked back to the house. "I live in between a crazy person and a stripper," he said, shaking his head.

"He's not a stripper," Tina said, glancing over her shoulder just as Sam stepped inside and closed the door.

"Oh please, that guy was wearing more bronzer and body glitter than a Miss USA contestant," Artie said. "He's either a stripper or a drag queen. And honestly, who answers the door without a shirt on?"

"Maybe he'd just gotten out of bed," Tina suggested.

Artie snorted again. "It's only seven-thirty, I'm betting that guy hasn't even  _been_  to bed yet." Tina grabbed the doorknob and frowned when it didn't twist. She checked her pockets and groaned. "What?"

"I locked my keys inside," she said irritably.

"There's a spare beneath that little turtle statue," Artie said, gesturing vaguely at a little stone turtle sitting in the front garden box. Tina furrowed her forehead but went over to check, and sure enough, there was a brass key taped to the underside of the statue. She unlocked the door and let them in, and then headed straight for the kitchen.

"Really?" Artie asked when she pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. "This early?"

"Absolutely," Tina said. She peeled off the foil and then grabbed the cork, tugging at it fiercely.

"There should be a corkscrew in the drawer beside the dishwasher if you're having trouble," Artie said. Tina murmured a soft thanks and moved over to the drawer, tugging it open. She set the wine bottle down on the counter to rifle through the drawer, but just as she caught sight of the corkscrew, she also noticed a few loose pieces of paper beneath a spatula. Forgetting about the corkscrew, she grabbed the papers and started flipping through them.

"What's that?" Artie asked curiously.

"New clues," Tina answered excitedly. "There's an address written on this post-it note. And a dry cleaning ticket. And – oh, well this is just a coupon for pizza. But we've got a start."

"Awesome," Artie said, walking over and peering over her shoulder. "Where's our first stop?"

"I'm not sure," Tina admitted, squinting at the untidy scrawl on the post-it. "Whoever wrote this has terrible handwriting. Did you write this?"

"I don't think so," he answered, cocking a head sideways and narrowing his eyes as he looked at the numbers. "I think that's a four. Or maybe a nine. No, that's definitely a four. One-thirty-four."

Tina nodded, tucking the papers into the pocket of her jacket. "Alright then, let's go find out who lives at one-thirty-four Sycamore Street." She grabbed her keys and ran around to the side of the house where her car was parked.

Artie slipped through the door into the passenger seat as she was climbing into the driver's seat. "A Beetle?" Artie asked with a raised eyebrow. "You drive a Volkswagen Beetle?"

"Shut up," Tina said, narrowing her eyes. "I've had this car for years."

"Since high school, I would guess, because only teens think that Beetles are acceptable to drive," Artie said in amusement.

Tina shook her head but ignored him as she backed out onto the road. As she searched for the right street, Artie entertained himself by humming along with the radio. It wasn't too difficult to find the right part of town since there was a strange section on the east side where every street was named after a type of tree. She finally found Sycamore Street, tucked in between Apple and Oak Streets.

"Okay, this is it," Tina said, pulling up to the kerb in front of the address. "Does it look familiar?"

"No," Artie said tentatively, squinting in concentration.

Locking up the car, Tina walked up to the front door and knocked. There was a minute of jumbled noise from inside before the door was answered by a pretty blonde woman who appeared to be about twenty years older than Tina. She seemed a bit breathless, and she narrowed her eyes at Tina suspiciously. "Can I help you?" she asked crisply.

"Yes, sorry, I was just wondering if you knew a man. He's about twenty-eight-"

"Nine," Artie corrected.

"Twenty-nine," Tina continued. "About this tall," she gestured to where the top of his head was, a height just a few inches taller than herself, "with brown hair and blue eyes."

The woman scowled and took a step closer, shutting the door just slightly behind her. "How do you know about that?" she asked in a hiss. "Did my husband hire you? Look, whatever he's paying you, I'll double it, okay?"

"Terri, who's that?" a man's voice shouted from inside.

"Just, uh, salesperson," the blonde hollered back. Then she rounded on Tina and said, "Come back after dark, and I'll get you your money, okay? But right now you've got to leave." And without another word, she slipped inside and slammed the door shut tightly.

"What was that?" Artie asked in confusion.

Tina let out a breathless laugh as the reality hit her. "You're a homewrecker," she said, shaking her head and then turning to look at Artie incredulously. "That woman is having an affair with you."

"What? No way," Artie said. When Tina headed for her car, Artie followed after her in shock. "I'm a homewrecker? I didn't even recognise that woman. How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but that woman is willing to pay me off to keep you quiet," Tina said. She adjusted her side mirror and caught a glance of a man coming out of one-thirty-nine across the street. He was tall and muscled, with a short black Mohawk on his head. As Artie grumbled to himself in the passenger seat, she allowed herself a minute to admire the view – he filled out those jean really nicely – before turning on the ignition. "Okay, so the dry cleaner next?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he agreed. "The news can't be any worse than what we got here."

Tina smirked to herself but steered out onto the road after a short glance at the address on the dry cleaning ticket. She'd never been there before, but she knew the place. It was a tiny little, family-owned cleaners on Main Street. "Okay, now this place I think I recognise," Artie said as she parked at the kerb. She'd barely put the car in park before he ghosted through the door and walked up to the front of the business, staring in the windows curiously.

"That never gets less creepy," Tina murmured to herself as she shut off the car and followed him. She let herself into the shop in front of Artie, and a bell clanged somewhere deep within the store. A minute later, a woman with large doe eyes emerged from between racks of clothes and smiled at her. "Emma," Artie said definitively.

"Hi there," the red-headed woman said cheerfully. "My name's Emma. What can I help you with?"

"Um, I was just wondering about this order," Tina said, producing the ticket from her pocket.

"Okay, let me see it," Emma said. She grabbed a pair of latex gloves from beneath the counter and put them on before accepting the paper, and then examined it pensively. "Oh yes, it was a nice suit. It was being treated for a wine stain, I believe."

"Armani, my best suit," Artie said on sudden recollection.

"What can you tell me about the man who dropped it off?" Tina asked.

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Nice, but quiet," she said. "He always seemed a bit – distracted. Like he was always in a hurry to get somewhere. I don't know much about him besides that, he didn't talk much."

"Well, thanks anyway," Tina said. After a pointed look from Artie she added, "Um, can I pick up that suit?"

"Oh sorry, no," Emma said. "Anything that's left her for more than a month gets donated to charity."

"You gave my suit to charity?" Artie asked in alarm.

"Okay well thanks," Tina said and waved a quick farewell to the other woman. She headed out the door, Artie still grumbling mutinously behind her. "Well, that was a pretty much just a waste of time too."

"Apparently I'm just a homewrecking hermit," Artie said in defeat, letting out a heavy sigh. He lifted a hand and rubbed at the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. "Unsurprisingly, this isn't making me feel a whole lot better."

Tina jammed her hands into her pockets and then pulled out the last piece of paper curiously. It was the wrinkled and expired coupon for a pizza parlour. "Wait, what if we try this place," she suggested. "It's just down the street, we may as well stop in while we're here. If a guy is clipping coupons, it means he went there a lot. Maybe the people who work down there will recognise you."

"Well being a pizza-loving anti-social homewrecker isn't a whole lot better, but okay," Artie said and shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

The pizza parlour was only four blocks north of where they were, so Tina chose to walk it instead of fighting to find another parking spot. The first cold bite of winter was just starting to really hit the autumn air, so she wrapped her jacket more tightly around herself as they walked down the pavement. Artie was uncharacteristically quiet beside her, and when she glanced sideways at him, he was scouring the buildings on either side of them like he was desperate for some clue.

She couldn't really blame him; it wasn't like any of the information they'd gathered so far had really been that helpful.

"Wait a minute." Artie stopped abruptly in the middle of the pavement. "Wait, I know this place."

Tina pivoted around and looked up to see what he was staring at. They were standing in front of a fancy, Italian restaurant. The ornate green awning above the front door read  _Breadstix_. "You came here a lot?" Tina asked to clarify, stepping forward and squinting through the window. It seemed to be moderately full, a pretty typical lunch crowd in the gold and green booths.

"No, I never made it," Artie said, frowning as he peered in through the window. "I remember always passing here and wanting to go in, but I didn't."

"Why not?" Tina asked.

"Too busy, I guess," he answered with a shrug. He walked through the front door, and Tina waited for an elderly couple to slip out passed her before she could follow him inside. He was standing in the entry area, looking around with wide eyes.

"Can I help you with anything?" a host asked graciously.

"No, no thanks," Tina said, glancing sideways to see what Artie was doing. "I was just checking out the place. I'm new to town and all."

There was a chaotic crash, and Tina glanced up to see a man fall over, the tray a waiter had been carrying crashing down around him. The waiter was scrambling to apologise, but the man on the ground hadn't moved.

"Oh god, I don't think he's breathing!" a woman shrieked in horror.

"Call 9-1-1, someone," another person hollered, and the waiter raced off to grab the phone behind the counter. "God, we need a doctor. He won't wake up. There's something wrong with him."

"Go check if he's breathing," Artie said hastily.

"What?" Tina asked.

"Check if he's breathing," Artie repeated, gesturing for her to follow as he approached the unconscious man. "Tilt his head back just a bit."

Tina had no idea what she was doing, but she pushed her way through the gathered people and knelt down at the man's side. Tilting her head, she lowered her ear to the man's mouth. "He's not breathing," she announced, glancing up at Artie questioningly.

"Check his chest," Artie instructed. "It looks like his chest is expanding. See if you can feel his ribs." Tina tugged on the man's shirt, popping the buttons, and then pressed her fingers into his ribcage. "Can you feel his ribs?"

"Barely," she said.

"Tell them you need a small paring knife and a bottle of vodka," Artie said. Tina gawked at him for a second before repeating the demands. A perplexed waiter nodded and jogged into the kitchen, returning a minute later with the items. "Okay, feel along his ribs again," he said. "Find a place where you can feel in between two ribs."

"Uh, okay, got it," Tina said, prodding her finger into the shallow depression between two rib bones. "Now what?"

"Splash a little vodka on the spot," Artie said. Tina didn't even question the odd notion before doing it, tugging the pourer off the bottle and dumping a large splash onto the man's skin. "Alright, now take the paring knife and make an incision."

"A what?" Tina asked in alarm.

"An incision," Artie said firmly. "A cut. The air from his lungs is escaping into his body, and unless you give it a place to go, it's going to crush his organs. Take the knife and make an incision right there in that spot between the ribs."

"Oh God," Tina muttered frantically. She grabbed the vodka bottle and took a heady swallow before picking up the discarded knife and placing the blade against the man's skin. It gleamed there, silver against his pale skin until, at Artie's urging, she pushed down and it split through the skin with almost alarming ease.

"Right, now take the bottle pourer and insert it into the opening," Artie said hastily. "That'll open it up and let the air out."

Tina cringed, but she grabbed the pourer and turned it upside-down, plunging it into the incision she'd cut in the man's side. Almost immediately there was a hissing noise, and she could visibly see the man's chest deflating slightly. He took a few ragged, shallow breaths, and then his eyes opened just a fraction.

"He's alive," Tina said in awe.

"The ambulance is on its way," a waiter announced loudly.

"I'm a doctor," Artie said, sitting back on his heels. "That's it, that's what I am. That's how I knew how to do that. I'm a doctor."

Tina stood up, staring at her shaking hands. "I just cut a hole in that guy's chest," she murmured.

"Wait, if I passed this place all the time, I must've worked nearby," Artie said, turning to Tina with eagerness on his face.

Tina picked up on the hint almost immediately, and she tapped the shoulder of the nearest person. "Sir, where's the nearest hospital?" she asked.

"Uh, New Directions General is just a couple blocks west," he said, pointing vaguely off in the right direction.

"That's it," Artie said enthusiastically. "That's the place. I was a doctor at New Directions. C'mon, Tee, we need to go there."

"What, now?" Tina asked. Artie headed for the doorway, and she had no choice but to follow him, the restaurant patrons patting her on the back and commending her the entire way. Out on the pavement, he was waiting impatiently, nudging his glasses back up his nose as they slipped down in his anticipation.

"Let's go, this is it," Artie said eagerly. "We've finally got a real lead."

"I just saved a man's life," Tina said, mind still reeling from the last ten minutes. "I – and that's what you do for a living?"

"Hells yeah," Artie said. "I might be anti-social and a homewrecker, but I save people's lives. I'm a doctor."

"What's that?" Tina asked, glancing at a streak of red on her palm in a detached sort of way.

"That? It's just a bit of blood," he answered. "This is great. We're finally on the right track."

Tina didn't hear any more of what he said because as the adrenaline started to wear down, she felt her stomach churn wildly. One more, quick glance at the red staining her palm sent her over the edge. She staggered over and promptly lost her breakfast into the nearest trash bin.


	6. The Hospital Story

Tina and Artie got to the hospital just a few minutes after the ambulance carting the guy from the restaurant, and they had to hover around the edge of the waiting room until the place had calmed down a little. Artie looked around in wonder as the memories of the place started to hit him. _That hall leads to the operating ward, and over there is the door to the faculty lounge._

When the place had cleared a bit, he led the way to the reception desk. The man behind the counter, a hulking behemoth of a guy with a baby face –  _Finn,_ his brain told him - looked up at Tina curiously. "Hi, I was wondering if you could help me out," Tina said timidly. Even though the man was sitting, he was still nearly eye-to-eye with her over the top of the counter. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. His name's Artie, he works here. Twenty-nine, about five-eight-ish."

The smile slipped from Finn's face slightly. "You mean Artie Abrams?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, that's it," Artie said as the name clicked in his head. "That's my name. Artie Abrams."

"Yes, that's him," Tina agreed.

"Right, okay," Finn said and nodded anxiously. "Um, let me check with the attending about this. Just a second." He stood up and walked over to one of the phones on the other side of the circle of desks.

"Oh no," Artie said, grimacing. Tina glanced at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "He's got that look. The one that says 'I'm trying to pawn you off on someone else because I don't want to tell you the bad news.' This can't be good."

Before Tina could respond, Finn had come back over with a grim smile. "You should go on up to the third floor," he said. "The attending doctor will meet you up there, he can explain everything."

"Okay, thanks," Tina said, nodding and then turning to the lifts. Artie trailed behind her uncertainly, something in his chest twisting anxiously. This wasn't good, whatever it was that was going on. The third floor. For some reason that sent a chill through him. When the doors opened they were facing another identical reception desk, only here a male doctor was leaning on the counter.

"Puck," Artie said instantly, the familiar chiselled features and Mohawk triggering his memory. "That's my best friend."

"That's the guy," Tina said in surprise. "When we were leaving the homewrecker house, I saw him across the street."

Suddenly the numbers clicked in Artie's head, and he almost laughed at the stupidity of it all. They'd misread the numbers, and instead of winding up at his best friend's house they'd shown up on some random neighbours front step. He wasn't a homewrecking tramp.

"I'm Dr Noah Puckerman. Are you the one looking for Artie?" Puck asked, plunging his hands into his coat pockets.

"Yes, can you tell me what happened?" Tina asked.

"First, I need you to tell me how you knew each other," Puck said.

"Tell him you're my girlfriend," Artie said instinctively. Tina shot him a short, alarmed look. "He can't tell you anything unless he knows we were close."

"We were – seeing each other," Tina said awkwardly. Puck raised an eyebrow sceptically. "It was sort of a new thing, we'd just started dating, but we were close. Really close."

"And you don't know what happened to him?" Puck asked.

Tina twisted a strand of her blue hair around her fingers nervously. "I've been out of the country," she invented quickly. "I was in Africa on charity work, and I only just got back last night. Late last night. We had taken a break while I was gone, but we were gonna get back together now that I'm back, but, you know..."

"His brother didn't say anything about you," Puck added suspiciously.

"Kurt," Artie supplied on impulse.

"Oh, Kurt? Yeah, he didn't know about us," Tina said with a brave attempt at nonchalance. "Like I said, it was pretty new."

Puck licked his lips thoughtfully, and then finally he nodded. "Well, I'm sorry to be the one to give you the news," he said gently, "but Artie was in a car accident about eight months ago. It was raining, his car spun out into the other lane, and he was hit by a semi."

Artie closed his eyes as the barrage of memories hit him; his phone ringing, the feel of the car jerking out of his control, the blare of the horn, the blinding light, and finally the excruciating pain as the world seemed to cave in around him. There was a strange tugging sensation in his chest, and he opened his eyes gingerly. He couldn't explain it, but a closed door down the hall seemed to be calling him, and he was powerless to stop its pull.

Tina caught sight of Artie moving out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn't risk saying anything to him with Dr Puckerman standing right in front of her. "It was a horrible accident," Puck continued. "Threw the car all the way across the road. A piece of shrapnel came off the broken seat, and it fractured his L3 vertebrae."

"It what?" Tina asked in surprise, caught off guard by this new bit of information.

"His spine was almost entirely severed between the L2 and L3 vertebrae, and the left side of his pelvis has been severely damaged," Puck went on to explain, his expression grim. "They managed to keep him with us until he went into surgery. It was about five hours of straight surgery just to get the major work done; they had to put him into a medically induced coma for his safety while they were working. Only, he never came out of it afterwards."

"So he's been in a coma for eight months?" Tina asked.

Puck nodded, pushing a hand back over his short black hair in exhaustion. "We kept up with his repair work because we were convinced that he would come out of it on his own and we wanted him to be as healed as possible when that happened, but..." He trailed off and shrugged before quickly rubbing at his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Medically, he's doing really well at the moment. All of his injuries from the accident have healed, his body hasn't rejected any of the repair work, and his vitals have been perfectly steady for months. He just won't wake up."

"My God, that's so horrible," Tina said, and she wasn't at all surprised to feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Can I-?"

"Yeah, of course," Puck said, and he gestured for her to follow. He led her down the hall Artie had disappeared down and then pointed to the door. "He's in here. I'll give you a moment to be alone."

Tina gave him a grateful nod and then pushed the door open, slipping inside. Artie was standing at the bedside, and when she walked over, she saw that he was also laying in the hospital bed. His body looked different than the face she was familiar with – his glasses were gone, eyes shut, and his pale face was draped with cords and tubes – but there was no mistaking him.

"It's you," she said in awe.

"I'm in sad shape, aren't I?" Artie asked grimly. "You know, I could feel it, sort of. I thought that something about me felt wrong, but I always assumed it was because I'm like this. You know, a spirit person or whatever. But it's my body that's broken. Paralysed. God, I can't believe this." He pressed a hand into the small of his back and grimaced. 

"But you're alive," Tina pointed out. "You're not dead. And that doctor said that medically you're actually pretty okay. So you just need to wake up now, and you'll be okay."

Artie gritted his teeth and nodded. "Right, I just need to focus on getting back into my body," he said determinedly. Tina stepped back and watched as he sat down on the edge of the bed and then laid down. His spirit disappeared into his body, and Tina waited with bated breath for some sign of it working.

Abruptly, Artie sat up again, leaving his body in the same place it had been. "This isn't working," he said.

"Just – try harder," Tina urged. "I'm pretty sure there was a little spike on this machine when you did that," she added, pointing to a beeping machine beside her that was attached to Artie's head by a bunch of cords. "Try again, and just really focus."

"Right." Artie laid back down, and she could hear him muttering to himself, things like 'focus' and 'be one.' Every few seconds he would raise an arm, but there was no reaction in his physical body. It had been a few solid minutes before he sat up again, scowling. "It's not working. This is ridiculous. It's like I can't make myself  _stick_. Like I'm not really connected to this body anymore."

Climbing down off the bed, he walked over to the window and sighed, staring out through the utilitarian blinds at the cityscape. "It's hopeless, Tina. It's just not working." There was an awkward silence in the room as Artie's eyes flicked over the row of drawings and art projects on the windowsill. "My niece and nephew," he said affectionately, his hand hovering above a crayon drawing labelled  _Uncle Artie_. "And this," he added, his gaze switching to a silver-framed photograph, "this is the picture from my bedside table. Kurt must've brought it up."

"You look happy," Tina remarked, walking over to survey the picture. It featured Artie and another young man with the same pale skin and side-swept brown hair, their arms around each other as they toasted the camera.

"I was," he said. "That was the night I took my medical exams. I failed miserably." He laughed and shook his head. "Kurt insisted we go out and enjoy ourselves for one night before I went back to studying. Said I was thinking too much and just needed to unwind. So we did. We burned my exam results and drank and danced. I had the best time of my life, and I completely forgot what a failure I was."

"Your brother sounds amazing," she said.

"He is," Artie agreed. "He's a bit overbearing sometimes, but he always means well, and he's always believed in me." He sighed again and shook his head. "I'm going to miss them all."

Frowning, Tina went back to her spot at the bedside and lifted aside the blanket covering Artie's real arm. She took one last glance to make sure he was still facing the other direction and then she closed her hand around his. On the other side of the room, Artie suddenly lifted his hand, gaping at his palm with wide eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I can feel that."

"See, you're still connected to this body," Tina insisted, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "You can't give up yet."

The door clicked open, and Tina glanced over as Puck poked his head into the room. "Sorry, but I'm about to go off the clock, and I can't leave you in here after I'm gone," he said.

"Right, yeah," Tina said. "Can you just – just give me one more minute? I'm just saying good-bye."

Puck gave her a sympathetic look and nodded, stepping outside again. Once the door had closed, Tina looked across at Artie. "So, what do you say? We can go back and check the books again, see if there's something we missed," she said.

Artie grimaced and shook his head. "No, that's okay," he said. "You go. I'm going to stay here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "It just feels right. I'm going to stay here with my body. Maybe something will work, you know. But thank you so much for all of your help."

Tina looked down at his body uncertainly and then nodded. "Okay, well, good luck then," she said.

"You too," Artie said with a soft smile.

The door opened again. "I'm sorry, but we really need to go," Puck said.

"Okay, I'm coming," Tina said. She took Artie's hand in both of hers, squeezing it gently, and then tucked the blanket back into place. She'd gone halfway to the door before she paused and turned back, her eyes landing on the standing figure beside the window instead of the prone one in the bed. "Good-bye," she whispered.

"Bye, Tee," he responded.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Tina turned away and left the room.


	7. Visiting Hours

Artie was starting to feel a bit hopeless. He had lingered around in his hospital room for several hours, monitoring the situation with his body. All around, he could see that it was actually in pretty decent shape.

He'd hovered when a nurse came in to check on him, and she'd thoroughly examined all of the intertwining scars around his waist and hips. She had methodically bent and flexed his legs to keep the circulation going through them properly, and Artie felt a slight twist of distress at seeing the gaunt, thinness of his body. It was pretty clear that he hadn't moved in months by the lean remnants of his former muscles. Still, everything moved the way it was supposed to, so that was a bonus.

It didn't escape his notice that he couldn't feel the nurses' touch the way he'd felt Tina's.

Finally, after a few aimless hours, Artie had gone for a walk around the hospital. He needed a break from staring at his lifeless body and praying something would happen. After wandering through several more rooms holding patients that he didn't recognise in various states of health, he finally stumbled across an office. His eyes landed on the woman behind the desk, and he grimaced.

"Santana Lopez," he said stiffly, taking in the pretty Latina woman who was reclining comfortably in the expensive office chair. "So, you got my job after all."

Santana had the office phone tucked up to her ear, pinned in place by her shoulder as she applied a fresh coat of red polish to her fingernails. "I know, it's fantastic, isn't it?" she said with a broad grin.

Artie snorted and shook his head. "Heaven forbid you chip your manicure trying to save a patient," he said darkly. As Santana continued rambling into the phone about some vacation she was planning to take, Artie turned and walked away. He couldn't take any more of that. It made his stomach roil to think that that pretentious princess had gotten his job. At the least, Dr Schue could've chosen a doctor who actually gave a care about the patients.

He walked through a supply closet, where he caught a nurse and an orderly in an intimate moment that made him blush. Hurrying on, he passed into the faculty room. Finn, the nurse from the front desk, was dozing in a chair with a cup of steaming coffee on the table beside his left hand. Artie smiled sadly, thinking about how many times he'd done the very same thing in his life. Come to think of it, he was fairly sure he'd spent more time at the hospital than his own house. It was no wonder none of his neighbours recognised him that well.

Dismissing the thought, Artie walked out through the wall and found himself in the lobby. He was about to walk over and hang around the front desk for a while, see if he could pick up any more information, when a shout made him look around. A streak of pink and glitter tore across the lobby, followed close behind by a giggling figure in black. Artie didn't have to get a good look at them to know who those familiar little figures were.

A split second later, Kurt strode after them, looking worn and flustered. "Marc, Liza, I told you no running," he shouted, shaking his head. He adjusted the collar of his sleek jacket as he half-jogged after the twins, straight into the room that housed Artie's body.

"You came," Artie said, smiling gratefully. He took off after them, slipping through the door just as Kurt was closing it behind him.

"Hey, guys, calm down," Kurt said chidingly to the kids. Marc and Liza were standing on either side of the bed, each of them clutching at one of Artie's hands. Artie rubbed his fingers together, but couldn't feel their little hands wrapped around his fingers any more than he'd felt the nurse. As they leant in and started whispering in childish gibberish, Kurt smiled and crossed to the window, exchanging the drying flowers for a fresh bunch of daisies.

"I'm so glad you guys came," Artie said, standing beside Kurt. His older brother made no motion that he'd heard, just watching the kids with a drawn expression. He looked tired, and his usually flawless skin was marred by faint shadows under his eyes that even his fastidious skin treatments couldn't completely hide. "Kurt, can you hear me? Feel me?"

"Careful with those IVs, Liza," Kurt warned. "You don't want to accidentally pull one out."

"Sorry, Dad," Liza, only four years old, murmured and shifted her hands around.

"Please, Kurt, tell me you can sense me or something," Artie said desperately. He reached out, but his hand passed through his brother's shoulder. The only reaction Kurt made was a slight twitch of his arm.

"Excuse me, Mr Anderson." Artie and Kurt both looked back to see Santana Lopez standing in the doorframe. "Could I have a word with you in private?"

"Yes, of course," Kurt agreed. "Kids, be careful. Don't touch anything." He waited until they'd both agreed before walking over to the doorframe, where Santana was still waiting. "What can I do for you?"

"I needed to talk to you about Arthur," Santana said in a voice dripping with fake sympathy. "We've been accommodating for so long because he was a cherished member of our staff-"

Artie snorted. "Oh please, you're happy-dancing right now."

"-but the fact is that it's been months without any sign of improvement," she continued. "When we start working here we're all required to sign a document in case of this circumstance. Do you know your brother's opinion on artificially sustaining life?" Kurt frowned and shook his head. "He was against it."

Artie blanched, glancing at the manila folder Santana was holding open. There it was, the stupid little piece of paper he'd signed years ago when he'd started his residency at New Directions. "No, that was before," he said hastily. "Please, Kurt, you have to hear me. I'm for it. I'm still here."

"Honestly, most in our profession are against it," Santana said gently.

"But there's still brain activity," Kurt pointed out with wide eyes. "You said it yourself. It's not like he's brain-dead."

"Exactly!" Artie chimed in eagerly. "I'm still here, Kurt. You can't let them do this."

"His brain activity has been steadily decreasing every day," Santana said. "At this rate, he will be brain-dead within another two months, perhaps only a little longer than that. Now because of the circumstances, we won't act without your consent on the matter."

"Yes, thank you," Kurt said sharply.

"But I would strongly recommend that you consider your brother's wishes-"

"I will," Kurt snapped angrily. "And I would recommend that you stop pressuring me about this. This is a family matter and, as you said, it's my choice. I will think about it."

Santana seemed momentarily stunned by the fierce retort, but she nodded. "Yes, of course," she said. "If you make your decision, these are the papers." Kurt accepted the papers from her with a scowl, and then Santana turned around and walked away.

Kurt took a deep, steadying breath, and then dabbed at his watery eyes. "No, Kurt, you wouldn't do this," Artie said, wishing more than ever that he could contact his brother in some way. "You won't give up on me, Kurt. You've never given up on me before, I know you won't do this. You can't."

Once he was back under control, Kurt swallowed deeply and forced on a smile. He stepped back into the room. "C'mon, kids, time to go," he said. "Let's leave your uncle to sleep."

"Is Uncle Artie ever going to wake up?" Marc asked dismally.

Kurt's lips pulled into a tight smile. "Button up your coat, Marc," he said, kneeling down and helping the four-year-old with his coat fastenings. "Okay, c'mon, let's go. Daddy should be home soon."

Marc and Liza cheered and then Marc took his sister's hand, tugging her along with him as he took off at an ungainly sprint for the lifts. Kurt cast one last look into the room at Artie's still figure, and then turned and chased after the kids.

"Thank you, Kurt," Artie said gratefully. "Thank you, for not giving up hope. For never giving up on me."

He knew that he needed to get back to his life now. There had to be a way to do it. He had to get back, but to do it he would need help. He'd need _her_.


	8. House Guests

Tina let herself into the house, dropping her keys on the table beside the door. She paused, her hands in the pockets of her coat, and looked up and down the silent front hallway. It was weird, but it felt strange to be alone in the house. Somehow, in the last few days, she'd gotten used to having that obnoxious, glasses-wearing git hovering around.

Shaking her head, she stripped off her coat and tossed it over the back of the sofa as she crossed through to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and instinctively reached for a beer can, but then hesitated. No, she couldn't do this. She put the can back down and reached for the egg carton instead. Gathering up a few random leftover vegetables from the crisper, she got out a frying pan and made an omelette. After grabbing a glass of milk, she sat down at the kitchen table and ate her first real meal in weeks.

She felt better after, more real than she had in a while. She cleaned up the dishes and then went to the living room, sitting down on the sofa and staring distractedly out of the window. It felt too quiet in the house. She tried to read a book but couldn't focus in the echoing silence. She had just slammed the book shut with a frustrated sigh when there was a heavy knock at the door.

"Who on earth...?" Tina set aside her book and crossed to the door. Lamenting the lack of peep-hole, she made sure the chain on the door was fastened and then opened it the short space it would.

"Hey there." It was the blonde man from the duplex next door, although this time he was at least wearing a shirt. He grinned, his hands tucked into his pockets in a way that pulled the tee-shirt tight across his chest.

"Uh, hi," Tina said uncertainly.

"Sam," he said unconcernedly. "From next-door. We met this morning."

"Yeah, I remember," Tina said. "What can I do for you?"

"I locked myself out of my house," Sam explained with a tentative shrug. "I've called a locksmith, but it's gettin' pretty cold out here. I was wondering if maybe I could wait for him in here."

Tina hesitated thoughtfully, thinking about how uncomfortable he'd made her while they were talking earlier, but she couldn't exactly leave him to stand around in the cold. It was mid-autumn, and with the sun down, the temperature had fallen drastically. She gave a quick nod and closed the door to undo the chain. When she pulled the door all the way open, Sam stepped inside with a grin.

"Thanks a lot, I 'preciate this," he said. "It's freezing out there. The guy who lives in the duplex next to mine has a spare key, but he's not home. Locksmith said he'd be here in about an hour, though."

"Make yourself comfortable," Tina said, gesturing to the sofa in the living room. Sam nodded gratefully and tugged off his jacket, slinging it over the arm of the couch as he sat down.

"Nice place you got," he said. "You haven't been here long, have you?"

"No, just a few weeks now," Tina said. She settled awkwardly into the armchair across from the sofa, not daring to sit too close to him. She didn't want him to think it was some sort of advance.

"That's cool," Sam said, bobbing his head in understanding. "I've been living next-door for years now, ever since I got out of high school." Tina nodded distractedly, and Sam seemed to take it as a prompt to continue because he immediately launched into a very long monologue. He talked about growing up in a small town not far from Cleveland and moving to the city. There were stories about his friends, and the neighbourhood, and a dozen other completely unrelated things.

He talked for well over an hour until the topics were so strange and varied that she couldn't really make sense of what he was saying anymore. He didn't seem to notice her disinterest at any rate. He talked on without pause, sprawled out comfortably across the sofa and chuckling at his own anecdotes.

"Did the locksmith know to come over here?" Tina cut in during a break in his story.

"What? Yeah, of course," Sam said, shrugging. "Hey, can I use your bathroom?"

"Uh, sure. It's down the hall, that first door on the right," she said, pointing vaguely in that direction. Sam smirked and stood, disappearing down the hall. Tina sighed and leant back in the chair, shaking her head. This guy was wearing on her last nerve. He was attractive as hell, sure, but she really wasn't in the mood to deal with all of this right now. Honestly, she just wanted to go to bed and get a real night's sleep for once.

Tina stood up and headed for the kitchen. If she was going to have to tolerate much more of this, she was going to need, at the least, a glass of wine. She stepped into the kitchen when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, and she froze.

"Artie!" she gasped in surprise. He was standing in the doorway leading the hall, and he immediately straightened up. "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying at the hospital, with your body."

"I was," Artie agreed, a bit breathlessly. "But-"

"Tina?"

Artie paused at the shout from down the hall, and he frowned. "Who's that?" he asked curiously. "Is that-? That's the stripper guy from next-door."

"He's not a stripper," Tina hissed, blushing in embarrassment. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, the corner of her lips hitching up in amusement. "And you sound jealous."

"I am not," Artie countered defensively.

"Tina, could I ask you something?" Sam called down the hallway. Tina rolled her eyes but stepped around Artie into the hall. To her surprise, she saw a pair of jeans being tossed out of the door.

"Right, not a stripper," Artie said drolly. "Just a man who likes to drop trou' in random people's houses. He's not a stripper; he's a prostitute."

"Artie, I didn't know he was going to do something like this," Tina said hastily. Somehow the disappointed look on Artie's face made her feel like she had to explain herself. "He just said he was locked out, and he's waiting for a locksmith. I didn't know he was going to  _get naked_  in my bathroom." Tina sighed and glanced at the bathroom door, where the jeans were laying in a heap on the hardwood.

Artie made an incredulous noise. "You're wondering what he looks like," he said in awe.

"I am not!" Tina said indignantly.

"Yes, you are," he argued. "I saw you checking him out when we were at his place this morning. You're wondering what he looks like naked, aren't you?" Tina sputtered in response, and Artie shook his head with a sceptical grin. "Here, I'll check for you."

"Artie, don't," Tina objected, but he'd already walked the length of the hallway.

"Not bad," Artie said, arching an eyebrow. "This guy has like two-percent body fat." He tilted his head sideways. "I've seen bigger." 

"Would you stop it?" Tina asked hysterically, the heat in her face making her feel dizzy.

Artie walked back down to her, folding his arms over his chest. "Look, Tina, it's no big deal," he said. "I get it."

"Tina?" She looked up as Sam stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but one of her violet towels slung around his waist. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being too forward, it's just this is the only way I know how to do this. I swore I felt something between us."

"It's alright, Tee," Artie said and shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Artie, no," Tina said desperately. He smiled, the expression taut, and then turned and walked through the wall. Tina sighed, a heavy pressure aching in her chest as he vanished before her eyes.

"Uh, Tina, you okay?" Sam was watching her cautiously, confused by the apparently one-sided conversation she'd been having. "Is there some sort of medication you need to take or something? I'm okay with that."

Tina let out a deep breath and pushed her hair back off of her face. "Sam, I'm sorry, you're a really great guy but I just – I'm not interested," she admitted wearily. "I've sort of got a lot going on, and I'm just –"

Sam nodded. "You're not into it," he said. "I get it. Look, I'm sorry, I'll get my things and go."

"Thank you," Tina said. She waited as Sam dressed again, and then she let him out of the house, checking to see that the lights were now on at his neighbour's house. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then trudged across the yard to the duplex building with his shoulders hunched against the cold. Tina carefully shut the door behind him, locking it up for the night.

Leaning back against the wood, she glanced mournfully at the spot on the wall where Artie had disappeared just minutes ago. As much as he'd tried to act nonchalant, she couldn't help but think he'd been upset by Sam's presence in the house. Although, admittedly, she was a little put off by it too. He was a highly attractive and charming guy, but she wasn't lying when she said she wasn't interested in that right now.

She just wished there was some way she could make sure Artie knew that. She really had been glad to see that he was back, despite the fact that it meant his health situation hadn't changed any. Now he'd gone and vanished again, and she had no idea where he could've gone. Except maybe...

Pushing herself up off the door, she grabbed her jacket. She knew exactly where she'd find him.


	9. Facing the Music

Tina shut the door of the spare room behind her quietly and looked out across the room. She could just see him through the full-length windows, sitting on the patio chair with his legs folded up in front of him. She carefully opened the sliding French door and slipped into the other chair.

"What are you doing out here?" Artie asked in a determinedly passive voice. "Where's the Chippendale dancer?"

Tina smirked at the poorly-veiled jealousy. "I sent him home," she said casually. "Told him I wasn't in the mood." She didn't miss the faintly satisfied smile that shot across Artie's face. Tina wrapped her arms tighter around herself, sobered by the thought of being with a man. "You know, it's been a while," she admitted quietly. "Since I've slept with anyone, I mean. Not since Mike."

"He's dead, isn't he?" Artie asked cautiously.

"A little over a year now," she answered. "We'd only been married a couple of months. I was helping him at the studio - he was a dance choreographer, and he was working a new program for the Chicago ballet. We were just dancing, and then suddenly he just sat down. He said he had a headache, and that it had just come out of nowhere."

Artie winced. "Cerebral haemorrhage?"

Tina nodded and rubbed at her watery eyes. "It was so fast I couldn't even do anything to help him. One minute he was fine, and the next he was gone."

"I'm so sorry," Artie said gently. "That must've been horrible."

"It's been a really rough year and a half," she said with a forced smile.

"I feel bad for giving you such a hard time now," Artie said. "I had no idea what you were going through."

Tina chuckled. "Yeah, well, you haven't exactly had an easy time of this either," she said. "I can't imagine what you've been dealing with, and it must've been even harder being at the hospital there with your body and all. How are you holding up?"

Artie sighed and hooked an arm around his leg, propping his chin on his knee. "It's made me think a lot about my life. I mean, how was I living before all this? I did nothing but work. No friends outside work, barely any time with my family. And look at how well my hobby I'm so passionate about turned out," he said, gesturing grandly over his shoulder at the empty room. "I always meant to do so much with this place. I love music, you know. Always have, ever since I was a kid."

"Did you play any instruments?" Tina asked curiously.

"In high school, and a little bit in college before I started med school. Had a short stint in a local boy band during pre-med," he answered with a small smile, his cheeks colouring. "I played guitar mostly, but I also did piano and bass guitar for a while. And I tried to play saxophone at one point in high school, but I found out I was really bad at it. And I did show choir for several years, too. Mom had started my brother and me into the church choir by the time we were four and we just never stopped, even after we both stopped going to church. Music was that one thing we really had in common."

"So what happened?" Tina pressed.

"I got –  _busy_ ," Artie said and shrugged lamely. "I was taking so many classes in med school, and doing internships, and working two jobs to pay for tuition. I had to stop then, and somehow even after I became a resident I still never found the time."

"That's a shame," Tina said. "It's a good hobby to have."

Artie nodded vaguely. "You ever play?" he asked pensively.

Tina stifled a laugh. "A little here and there, yeah," she said evasively. Artie lifted his head and glanced across at her with an arched eyebrow. She paused thoughtfully, considering the options, and then smiled. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

Artie trailed behind her as she jogged inside to grab her keys, and then headed out to the car. "Where are we going?" he asked as she threw herself into the driver's seat and flipped the ignition.

"You'll see," Tina answered coyly. Artie continued to badger her as they drove across town until she finally reached over and turned up the radio for the sole purpose of drowning him out. He scowled at her indignantly but finally caved and relaxed back into the seat.

They drove all the way across to the far side of town, deep into the old business district. She could see Artie's curiosity peak as they travelled further, but she gave no indication of their destination. When she finally parked the car on the kerb in front of an old, rectangular building in a strip of warehouses and office buildings, Artie was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"What is this place?" he asked, looking up at the hand-painted sign hanging over the door. " _Asian Vampire Studios_? This isn't some sort of creepy, Gothic fetishists' nightclub, is it?"

Tina chuckled, rummaging on her key-ring for the right one. "Hardly," she said. "Asian Vampire is a nickname I got in high school. I had this really crazy teacher in high school who thought I was a vampire because of the way I dress."

"A real vampire?" Artie asked sceptically.

"Yeah, that's what I said," she agreed. "But he was crazy determined about it, and even went far enough to threaten imposing a stricter dress code so I'd have to change my style."

"And that's why people called you the Asian Vampire?"

"No, they called me Asian Vampire because to convince them not to enforce the dress code I pretended to be a real vampire and told him if he pissed me off, my family would drink him dry," she responded with a smirk as she fit the copper key into the deadbolt.

Artie laughed loudly. "That worked?"

"Like a charm," Tina said smugly. "Everyone thought the story was so funny that they started calling me the Asian vampire."

"So then this place is-?" he trailed off curiously.

Tina smiled and pushed the door open. Stepping inside, she flicked on the lights, and the florescent glow bathed the enormous studio in pale light. "Welcome to my recording studio," she said with a grand, sweeping wave of her arms.

"My God," Artie breathed, stepping around her to look around the room. "This place is fantastic." The building was separated into several smaller rooms, each soundproofed and set apart for specific instruments.

"It's looking a little woe-be-gone at the moment," Tina admitted, swiping a hand over the desk and grimacing when a fine layer of dust clung to her fingertips. "I haven't been by here in a while."

"If I had a place like this, I don't think I would ever leave it," Artie said solemnly. "Did you work here? Are you, like, a musician?"

"I was a songwriter," she said.

Artie's attention swivelled back to her, and his eyes widened. "No way," he said. "Really? What kind of songwriting?"

"Mostly it was composing," she explained. "I wrote some pieces for the Chicago ballet - that's actually how I met Mike - and I made some music for television shows for a while. A couple years ago, I wrote a handful of pop ballads, and a couple of them ended up in the top forty. But the best thing I ever wrote was an R&B ballad. I think I still have a copy of the recording here..." She wandered into the sound booth and rifled through a row of discs, before finally pulling one out. "Oh, well this is the first recording, so it's me singing it instead of the artist, but this is it."

She slid the disc into the player and pressed the button. It took a second for the machines to start up, but gradually a low cello sound drifted from the speaker system. As it picked up in volume, it was joined by a violin and a saxophone. There was a sweet piano melody that rose over the top, and suddenly Artie's jaw dropped.

"I know this song," he said abruptly. "I've heard it before."

"Really? I'm surprised you remember it, it hasn't been on the radio in years," she said and brushed a thumb across the CD case fondly.

"No, not on the radio," Artie said, shaking his head. His expression was serious, wrinkled up in concentration. "I know this will sound crazy, but I used to dream about it. I would have these dreams where I could just hear this song all around me."

Tina watched him in awe, but there was something about his expression that told her he wasn't making it up. His face was open and honest, full of a sort of genuine earnestness. He actually had heard the song before. She shook off her surprise and looked at the familiar building layout. "This was my life's work."

"Was?" he asked. "Not anymore?"

"Not since Mike died," she admitted. "I hadn't set foot in here since he died. It was too hard. Too many memories. Besides, with the royalties from my work and Mike's life insurance, I can get by without having to worry about working again for a long time."

"But don't you miss it?" Artie asked. He reached out a hand and ghosted it over the tops of the slider board, his fingertips blending and dissolving into the knobs and buttons. "No one could create such beautiful music without being very passionate about it. You must've loved it."

"I did," she agreed. "I do. Writing music, turning emotions and stories into songs. There's nothing like it."

Artie nodded thoughtfully. "You should do it again," he said. "I think you should go back to making music. It's what makes you happy. You deserve to be happy."

Tina smiled at him gratefully. "Maybe I will," she said vaguely. "We'll see."

Artie seemed to be content with that answer, and he wandered off to explore the rest of the music studio, humming along with her song as he went.

They finally went back to the house sometime in the early hours of the morning, and Tina collapsed into bed wearily. Her dreams were a convoluted mess of colours and images blurring together, and she was woken up far earlier than she would've liked – although it was well passed the time an average person would've been awake – by the ringing of her phone. Groaning into her pillow, she reached over and grabbed the mobile off the nightstand.

"Hello?" she murmured sleepily into the phone.

"Hi Tina, it's Quinn," came the perky reply. "I've got good news for you. The homeowners just called, and the place is yours."

"What?" Tina asked, bolting up, immediately awake.

"Yeah, they're ready to take you off the month-to-month, and they've set up a contract for a nice long lease," Quinn said cheerfully. "Congratulations, it's all yours."

"I've got to go," Tina said, and she snapped the phone shut. Jumping out of bed, she shouted, "Artie!"

"What?" he asked, walking around the corner of the doorframe. He took one look at her wide-eyed expression and frowned. "What's the matter?"

Tina grabbed a skirt from the armchair opposite from her bed and hastily started changing. "We've got to go see your brother," she informed him, staggering as she tried to simultaneously pull up her skirt and tug off her sleep shorts. "He's taking you off life support."


	10. Brother, May I?

Tina was struggling to concentrate on her driving as the Beetle curved along with the late morning traffic. In the passenger seat, Artie was bouncing in anticipation, toying with his fingers distractedly.

"We need to convince your brother that I know you," Tina said, glancing sideways at him as she stopped at a red light. "What kind of secrets do you know about him?"

Artie chuckled. "He's my big brother," he responded. "I know everything."

"Alright, so tell me something," she said.

"Well, when we were kids he wanted to be a fashion designer," Artie said. "He used to design clothes for my Power Rangers and G.I. Joes."

Tina arched an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"In high school, his favourite teacher called him Porcelain," he continued.

"Well that's good, but that's not really something too secret," she pointed out. "What's something that no one but you knows about him?"

Artie paused and was deep in thought for two city blocks before his eyes lit up. "On the day of his wedding, he made out with a female friend, a girl named Sadie that he went to college with, right before the ceremony," he said.

"He cheated on his wife on his wedding day?" Tina asked in shock.

To her surprise, Artie laughed outright. "He's gay," he added.

Tina's eyes widened. "That's even better," she said with a laugh. "Great, that will work."

As they got closer, Artie directed her to the right place, and when they pulled up, Tina had to take a second to gawk at the house. The little square cottage looked like it had come straight out of a magazine, with perfectly shaped coordinated curtains in each of the windows and carefully arranged plants lining the wrap-around porch. It was a vision of domestic perfection.

"Wow," she breathed as she climbed out of the car.

Artie snorted. "Kurt likes things to be just so," he explained. "If he hadn't gone into fashion he would have most definitely been an interior designer. Blaine pretty much just lets him decorate however he wants, I think he just likes that it feels homier than where he grew up."

"I wanna invite him over to do my place," Tina said with a laugh. She walked up to the front door, pausing to admire the porch swing with the name ' _Anderson_ ' carved into the backboard in a delicate script. Bracing herself, she knocked.

A young boy's voice from inside bellowed, "Dad, door!" There was a blend of overlapping noises after that until the door finally opened. Tina surveyed the man in front of her with interest. He was beautiful, plain and simple. Still, there were places where she could see the distinct similarities between Artie and his brother. They both had the same smooth, pale skin and their hair was the same colour, although Kurt's was obviously more thoroughly styled. And most of all, they both had wide, cornflower blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked politely.

"Uh, yeah," Tina said, scrambling to recover herself. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about your brother, Artie."

Surprise flashed quickly across Kurt's face before he composed his expression again. "How do you know my brother?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tell him you're a patient," Artie hissed. "He knows I wasn't dating anyone; he won't fall for that."

"I was a patient of his," Tina said. "Before his accident. He helped cure me of - meningitis." Kurt's eyebrows drew down slightly and, panicking, she said, "Cerebral meningitis."

"Cerebral meningitis?" Artie asked sarcastically. "What the hell? Meningitis is in the brain; you don't need to say cerebral too."

Trying to ignore him, Tina continued, "I really liked him. A lot of people were telling me that things were never going to get better, but Artie always stuck by me, and in the end, he's the one who really helped me get through it. I might not be here if it wasn't for him."

A soft smile lifted the corner of Kurt's lips. "Yeah, that sounds like Artie," he agreed. "Here, why don't you come inside?"

Tina smiled gratefully as she slipped through the door. "Your house is beautiful," she added once she'd had the chance to look around the entry room. She had never seen such a gorgeous house, even with the Spongebob doll sitting on the decorative table beside the door.

"Thank you," Kurt said with a pleased smile, and then he led her through to the kitchen. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asked, setting up the pot for tea.

"I just –" Tina hesitated, trying to think how best to say it. A glance at Artie told her he didn't have any clever answers either. Finally, she could only think of one thing to say. "I wanted to ask you not to take him off life support."

Kurt's hand stumbled on the pot, splashing a bit of water onto the stovetop. "Excuse me?"

"I just wanted to ask you not to give up on him just yet," Tina insisted. "When I was sick, Artie never gave up on me. It just seems wrong to give up on him, doesn't it? He can get better; you just need to give him time."

"I see." Kurt frowned, flicking his hair back off of his forehead distractedly. "Do you know what these last eight months have been like for my family? I've had to watch my younger brother slowly but surely drifting away from us. We lost our parents a few years ago, and he's all the family I've got left. My children ask me every night if their uncle is ever going to wake up and play with them again. How can I explain this to them? How can I tell them he might never come out of this? I can't do that. These eight months have been slowly wearing us all down. I can't put my kids through that anymore. We're running out of hope."

"Dad?" The door to the kitchen was pushed open by a little boy with a mop of curly brown hair. "Can we watch the monkey show?"

"Yes, alright," Kurt said with a gentle smile. "But only for a little while; it's almost lunchtime."

"Yay!" the boy crowed eagerly. He looked around the room, and for a minute his eyes settled on where Artie was standing. The boy grinned and waved, and then turned around and darted out of the room.

"He saw me," Artie breathed and took off after the boy.

"Please, sir," Tina pressed on, disoriented at being left alone, "all I'm asking is that you don't sign those papers. Not yet."

Kurt sighed and leant his weight against the countertop. "It's too late," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"No," she said, her breath rushing out of her. "You didn't."

"I took them over first thing this morning," Kurt responded. "They're pulling the plug at noon tomorrow. It was time to face the facts. Artie is not waking up. We couldn't keep pretending any longer. Artie had signed documents saying he didn't want to be kept alive artificially. I spent too many years thinking I knew what was best for him. This time I'm going to honour his decisions. This is what he wanted. "

"No, please, I swear to you he doesn't want this," Tina said frantically. "You just need to call the hospital and stop this whole thing. Just give him a little more time, he'll come out of this."

Kurt scowled and shook his head. "It's too late," he repeated.

"But he's here," Tina insisted. "He's here, with us, right now. I can see him. I don't know why, but I can see him. Please, we're trying to find a way to get him back into his body, but you have to give us a little more time to figure it out."

"He's here?" Kurt asked sceptically.

"He just walked into the other room, I swear it," Tina said. "When I moved into his house he started haunting me. He can talk to me, and I can hear him."

Kurt's perfectly sculpted eyebrow swept high up onto his brow. "Oh really?"

"Like he told me how you always knew you wanted to be a fashion designer, so you used to dress the G.I. Joes up in clothes you'd made," Tina rambled off. "And your high school teacher called you Porcelain. And on the day of your wedding, you kissed a girl named Sadie."

Something flashed in Kurt's eyes, and he tensed up. "How did you know that?" he asked menacingly.

"Artie told me," Tina said firmly. "Just this morning, on the drive over here. I told you, he's still around and you can't give up on him just yet. Give us some more time."

"Oh, of course," Kurt said, his voice suddenly detached. There was an awkward pause while Tina tried to make sense of his sudden shift in mood, and then he leapt sideways and jerked a cutting knife from the rack above the stove. Holding it up in front of him defensively, Kurt said, "Get out of my house."

"Wait, no please," Tina said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm telling the truth."

"Out!" Kurt shouted and brandished the knife threateningly. Tina hesitated for a second longer and then turned and rushed out of the room.

She was barrelling down the hall when Artie's upper half appeared through the wall. "What's going-?" His eyes landed on Kurt, who was following her with the knife, and he gasped. Tina bolted out of the front door with Artie right behind her. Kurt paused at the doorframe long enough to say, "And stay away from my family," before slamming it shut.

"Well, that didn't go well," Tina muttered darkly, straightening out her jacket and stepping down off the porch.

"What happened?" Artie asked curiously.

Tina sighed and then quickly recounted the conversation she'd had with his brother. "I'm sorry, I had no choice but to tell him," she finished. "He wasn't listening. I had to try."

"I know," Artie said. "I don't blame him for not believing you, though. It's a pretty insane story. He was just protecting the kids."

"You look a lot alike," Tina commented. "But I thought you said he was your older brother?"

Artie grinned. "By eighteen months," he amended. "Still, he definitely always acted the older brother. He always knew best. I hated him for it sometimes, when he'd meddle in my life a little too much, but he was usually right in the end."

"Well he's not right this time," Tina said adamantly. "So if we can't stop them, we'll just have to beat them. We're going to find out how to send you back, tonight."


	11. One Last Night

Tina shoved the door of the shop open, the wind chasing her in and setting off the array of wind chimes hanging from the ceiling. She glanced around quickly until she spotted Rachel standing behind the desk in the corner near the window. The petite brunette looked up from her book as Tina jogged over to the table. "We need your help," Tina said without pre-empting.

Rachel's forehead furrowed, and she glanced sideways at where Artie was standing beside Tina. "The spirit's here with you, isn't he?" she asked knowingly. "Yes, I can sense his aura. But it's shifted. I feel a very strong red aura now. The hostility has changed into affection."

"What?" Tina asked, looking over at Artie. He shrugged, but she noticed that his ears had gone pink.

"Yes, you've both grown fond," Rachel said decisively, and she smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"We need your help," Tina repeated. "You were right; Artie's not dead. He's in a coma. His family is going to take him off life support. How can we get his spirit or whatever back into his body?"

Rachel traced her fingers over the opened book on her desktop. "That's not the right question."

"What do you mean?" Tina asked frantically. "We need to know how to get him back. Why is he not in his body? How do we get him back in? How do we save him?"

"I'm sorry, but you're asking all the wrong questions," Rachel said.

Tina groaned and threw her hands up in exasperation. "There are too many questions, how do I know which is the right one?" she said. "Why is he here? Why isn't he in his body? Why am I the only one who can see him?"

"Ah," Rachel said, and her eyes lit up. "There.  _That_  was the right question."

Tina and Artie exchanged bemused glances. "I don't know," he said in response to the question in her eyes.

"Neither do I," she agreed.

Rachel smiled and tipped her head. "Find the answer to that, and you'll have all your answers."

* * *

Tina was still fuming when they got back to the house. "What a load of worthless tosh," she said as she slammed the front door behind them, tossing her coat onto the sofa. "I asked her for help, and that's all she gave us? A _riddle_?"

She turned around, expecting Artie to agree with her, only to see he wasn't even paying attention. He was kneeling beside the sofa, a hand hovering above the edge of the silver-framed photograph propped up in front of the lamp. Tina's argument died on her tongue as Artie looked up at her with wide eyes. "You took my picture," he said, but instead of accusatory his voice only sounded awed.

Tina felt her cheeks turn red and she shrugged. She stared over his shoulder, taking in the old photograph of Artie's smiling face, with his brother's arm tossed around his shoulders. "I stole it from the hospital when we were there," she admitted in embarrassment. "I just – I thought I wasn't going to see you again and I wanted something to remember you by."

Artie smiled, and his fingers passed through the frame as he traced the edges. "I'm glad," he said. "I think you should keep it. I'm glad someone will remember me."

"Plenty of people would," Tina said quickly. "I've met all these people from your life in the last few days, and I can see they would miss you. Your friends from the hospital, and especially your family. Your brother, and your niece and nephew. They love you. They would miss you if you never came back. But they won't have to worry about that because I'm going to save you."

Walking over to the little table beside the armchair, Tina unburied the pile of books she'd bought from Rachel's bookshop. She tossed aside one she'd already read cover-to-cover and picked up another that she'd only skimmed through. "What are you doing?" Artie asked.

"Going back through all of this," Tina said distractedly, flipping through several pages of useless acknowledgements at the beginning. "Maybe there's something I missed, something that will help."

"Don't waste your time, Tee." Artie sat down on the coffee table, folding his legs and placing a hand on the page she was trying to read. "It's not going to help," he said. "Look, I'm going to die tomorrow." The blunt statement made Tina pause, and she looked up at him imploringly. "I've accepted that. I mean even if I had come back, my life would never be the same. I'm paralysed. I wouldn't have been able to keep working the way I do, and my job was my life. I'm going to die, and I'm okay with that now. I don't want to spend my last night scrambling around for some scrap of hope. I just want to enjoy it."

Tina nodded and closed the book, setting it aside as her brain immediately switched gears. "Alright then, what do you want to do? Do you want to go sky-diving? Or fly to Europe? We can do whatever you want. You know, so long as they accept major credit cards."

Artie chuckled and shook his head. "No, I have another idea," he said, and his tone had gone timid. "Actually, what I really want to do is take you on a date." Tina's eyes snapped up, and she met Artie's gaze. "I know it sounds insane," he hurried on, "and I guess really you'd be taking yourself out since I can't actually pay for anything. I just – I haven't gone out on a real date in ages, at least not one that wasn't a blind date. I want to go out, with you."

There was a long minute as Tina tried to process this request. It was both a completely normal and totally ridiculous thing. She looked across at Artie's sweet, awkward smile, and then felt herself returning it. "Give me just a second to go put on something nicer," she said and jumped up. Artie looked shocked but he nodded, and she ran across the house to the bedroom.

Rummaging through the closet, she found one of her dresses tucked into the back. She hadn't worn any of her nice clothes in a while because she hadn't really had a reason to. Now she pulled out one of her favourites, a navy and black dress with intricate lacework around the skirt, and slipped it on. She combed her hair down, so it lay smoothly, and then slipped on a pair of flats. With one last check in the mirror, she turned and walked back into the living room.

Artie looked up as she came in and his eyes widened comically. "Wow, you look –" He trailed off, apparently lost for the right word.

"That's how a girl's supposed to look on the first date, isn't it?" she replied cheekily, trying not to blush as he openly stared. "So, where are we going?"

"Well I'm a pretty classic guy," Artie said and bit his lower lip thoughtfully. "So how does a nice dinner sound? Maybe a walk in the park afterwards?"

"That sounds great," she agreed and picked up her jacket. "Alright, Romeo, let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting opposite each other at a booth in the back of Breadstix. The host had given Tina a weird look when she'd asked for a private booth, but he'd obligingly led her to one in the back and handed Tina a menu. "I've never actually been here before," she admitted, glancing around. "You know, except when we saved that guy who wasn't breathing that one time."

Artie chuckled. "Me neither," he agreed. "It's nice in here, though."

"Shame you won't be able to eat anything," she said a bit awkwardly, twisting one of the thin breadsticks between her fingers. "That sort of defeats the purpose of going out to eat."

"It's okay, I'll survive," he said. "You'll just have to tell me how good it is."

Tina wrinkled up her nose and dropped the breadstick onto the tabletop, struggling to swallow the bite she'd just taken. "Well, for a place called Breadstix, their breadsticks are terrible," she said. "No wonder they're free."

"Well that's disappointing," Artie said and chuckled. "I hope their food at least is good."

"So do I, or this'll be a pretty lousy start to a date," she replied with a smirk. Artie's lips quirked up more on one side, and it gave him a playful, mischievous look. For a minute, she was able to forget that he wasn't entirely real and that this was their last night together. While she ate a dish of spaghetti, he told her about his childhood and family and med school. Tucked away in their safe corner, she giggled at his jokes and caught herself batting her eyelashes at the man only she could see. And after dinner, they walked side-by-side through the park and Tina was able to feel like any other girl out on a first date.

"You know this is the first date I've been on in a long time," Artie said conversationally as they ambled down a deserted path behind the playground. The sun had gone down and the place was empty and quiet. "In almost six months, I think. Or well, six months from before my accident so I guess that's over a year ago."

"This is my first date since Mike died," Tina said. "I haven't been on a first date since my freshman year of college when we met."

"So you'd forgotten how awkward first dates are too?" Artie asked jokingly.

Tina laughed appreciatively. "Honestly, this really wasn't that awkward," she said. "You know, apart from the waiter giving me weird looks for talking to myself. He probably thought I was crazy."

"You kind of are, Tee," he pointed out and then grimaced. "Right, sorry, I forgot you don't like being called Tee."

"I don't know," she said and shrugged. "It's kind of grown on me. I don't mind it so much anymore."

Artie smirked. "I knew I'd wear you down eventually," he said triumphantly. The breeze swept through the park and Tina shuddered, rubbing her hands together and pulling her jacket tighter around herself. "Oh, we should probably get you inside before you get a cold," he said quickly.

"But what about our date?" Tina asked. "We're supposed to make it perfect for you."

The smile that slipped over Artie's features was soft and affectionate. "It already is," he said. "C'mon, the night doesn't have to end just because we go home. We can watch a movie, have some wine, whatever you like."

"Alright," Tina agreed reluctantly, and they walked back to where her car was parked. Artie hummed along with the radio again as they drove and this time Tina joined in. They were both singing along loudly by the time they got back to the house, and she let them in, draping her coat over the arm of the sofa. When she turned around Artie was watching her with a curious expression on his face. "What?"

"You really do look beautiful," he said sincerely. "Not just tonight, but always. You're beautiful. I just thought you should know that." Tina shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat creeping up on her face. "Can you ask one last favour from you?"

"Of course," Tina said. "Anything."

"Lay with me?" he asked sweetly. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight." Something caught in Tina's throat, but she nodded and gestured for him to follow her. She walked down to the bedroom and then stretched out on one side of the bed, turning on her side and tucking her arm under her head like a pillow. Artie lay down on the other side, copying her position, and then smiled at her softly. "Thank you."

Tina wordlessly held up her free hand between them and Artie placed his against hers, their skin blurring together around the edges. A strange, indistinct tingle spread through her fingers and made her chest feel light. "I can almost feel that," she said with a smile.

"Me too," Artie agreed, and his expression became more intense. "You know, sometimes I think if I could ever really touch you like this, it would wake me up."

They didn't talk after that, just lay there next to each other. Gradually Tina's hand drifted to lie on the mattress and Artie set his on top of hers, although it passed straight through. She fell asleep with the tingle of his hand on hers and his blue eyes filling her vision.

* * *

Tina grudgingly pried her eyes open up as awareness swept back into her, and the moment she realised that the bed next to her was empty, her heart jumped into her throat. "Artie?" she asked in a panic, bolting up.

"I'm here." She pivoted around and saw he was sitting on the bench in the bedroom window. A relieved sigh left her.

"I thought you'd gone already," she admitted anxiously.

Artie smiled. "Not yet, it's only nine," he said and pointed at the clock.

"Good, we've got time," Tina said and jumped out of bed. "I figured out what I've got to do."

"What do you mean?" Artie asked curiously.

Tina tugged on the nearest pair of jeans and then pulled her dress over her head without any regard for modesty. As she slipped into a camisole, she turned back to him and said, "I was dead, and it was you who brought me back to life. So I'm going to return the favour. It's my turn to save you."

"Tee, we went over this," he said. "It's too late."

"No, all we need is more time," she said insistently. "We just need some more time to figure out how to get you back, which means I have to stop them from killing you. And last night I thought of the answer." She slipped on her shoes and then fixed him with a piercing stare. "I'm going to steal your body."


	12. A Bid for Freedom

"Tina, this is insane." Artie had been tailing her as she got ready, repeating things like this over and over again no matter how well she ignored him. "I'm serious. You can't think you can pull this off."

"I have to try," Tina said, rounding on him. "I can't just give up on you, Artie."

Artie sighed. "Do you know what you'd need to make this work?" he asked. "I mean the medical knowledge alone required to stabilise a comatose patient, especially one who also happens to be paralysed..."

"That's what you're for," she pointed out. "You know all of that, and you can talk me through it the same way you talked me through helping that guy at the restaurant. Together we can keep you alive long enough to figure out how to get you back into your body." Artie hesitated and rubbed his forehead wearily. "Do you want to die?"

"What?" Artie seemed surprised by the blunt question, and it took him a second to gather himself. "No, of course not."

"Then we've got to try this," she insisted. "It's the only way to give you a fighting chance. You know I'm right."

"This is insane," Artie repeated, but he appeared to be deep in thought even as he said it. "I mean, it's completely psychotic, right?"

"Absolutely," Tina agreed. "But I'm doing it."

Artie bounced on the balls of his feet for a minute, and then finally he nodded. "Alright, well first you're going to need someone with a loose moral compass and a van," he instructed.

Tina grinned. "I know exactly who to call."

* * *

The van was racing along the streets, and Tina was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles as she fought to keep it on course. In the seat next to her, Mercedes was clutching the dashboard in terror.

"You know, for some reason, your friend looks really familiar," Artie said distractedly from the back seat.

Mercedes cut in before Tina could say anything. "Girl, do you wanna tell me why we headin' for the hospital and what exactly is the big rush?"

"They're having a sale on some old hospital stuff," Tina lied, slowing down just enough to round the corner safely and then accelerating again. "This morning only. They're selling old hospital beds. You know how much I always wanted one of those."

"Oh great," Mercedes said wryly. "So you're gonna go from being a couch potato to a bed potato. Fantastic."

"You didn't tell her?" Artie gasped in surprise. "What the hell, Tee?"

Tina ignored him as she steered the van into the side parking lot and shifted the van into park. "C'mon, let's go," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and jumping down out of the car. Mercedes followed close behind her, hissing questions at Tina under her breath and not getting any answers. Artie was jogging along beside Tina, and when they'd gotten up to the third floor, he directed her to a supply closet.

"Alright, you're going to need a portable ventilator," Artie said, and then at her confused look he pointed and added, "One of those."

Tina grabbed one and pushed it into Mercedes' arms, and then handed her several more things as Artie pointed them out to her. "Whoa, hold up, girl," Mercedes said. "This ain't a hospital sale. This is stealing. So tell me, for real, what is going on?"

"Tell her," Artie said firmly.

Tina sighed and nodded. "Okay M, so you remember how I told you I was seeing that guy?" she asked hesitantly.

"The hallucination?" Mercedes clarified.

"Yeah, him," she agreed. "Well, it turns out he wasn't a hallucination at all. He was the guy who lived in that house before me, and he was in an accident. So he's in a coma and it's his spirit that was haunting my house. But now his family is going to take him off life support, so I'm here to steal his body so I can keep him alive until we can find a way to get his spirit back into his body."

Mercedes stared at her in open-mouthed awe. For a minute she looked like she couldn't seem to find any words, and then all she managed was a breathless, "Really?"

"I swear it," Tina said. "I know it sounds insane, but it's the truth."

"Right," Mercedes said. "So, this ghost guy, he's here in the room with us?"

"Just there behind you," Tina said, pointing to where Artie was.

Mercedes glanced over her shoulder and then back to Tina with a sceptical look. "Okay, well if he's back there then how about he tells you how many fingers I'm holding up behind my back," she said and moved her hand out of Tina's eyesight.

Tina glanced at Artie, who immediately said, "Three." Tina repeated the number, and Mercedes' eyes widened. "Now it's two," Artie said, which Tina also repeated. "Now five. Now one. Now – oh well that's completely uncalled for."

"Mercedes!" Tina chided. "Don't flip him off."

Mercedes looked thoroughly shocked now, but she shook her head. "Okay, that's weird," she admitted. "But it's not entirely unheard of for patients suffering a psychotic break to experience mild precognisant abilities."

"I'm not crazy," Tina said flatly.

"Right, Tina," Mercedes said, but she was clearly humouring her. "Well then tell me this. If all of this is true, then why are you risking this? What reason do you have to risk everything you've got and for me to risk my professional career on this?"

"Because –" Tina paused and the answer jumped unforeseen into her mouth. "Because I love him." Staring passed Mercedes, she met Artie's gaze. "Because I love you. I thought I'd never be able to be in love again, but then I met you and somewhere between trying to have you exorcised and last night, I think I fell in love with you. And I can't lose you now."

Artie's face split into a grin so wide it was almost comical. "I love you too, Tee. I really do. I'd – I'd get down on one knee and do this properly if I could, but this doesn't really seem like the right time. But later, I promise."

There was a long pause while Tina's eyes grew incredibly moist, and then Mercedes broke the quiet. "Okay, I've got no idea what just happened here, but I'm in," she said and shifted the supplies to a more comfortable grip. "Let's do this thing."

"Thank you," Tina said gratefully. Artie nodded to her, and she added, "He says thanks, too."

"No prob," Mercedes said. "Alright, is that everything?" Artie instructed Tina on the last few things to grab and then they slipped back out into the hall. Tina and Mercedes ducked into a faculty lounge and stole a pair of white lab coats as well, pulling them on over their clothes to look less conspicuous. Finally, they ducked into the hospital room, and Tina rushed up to Artie's bedside.

"Oh my God," Mercedes said abruptly, dumping her armload onto the foot of the bed.

"What?" Tina and Artie asked together.

"This is the guy," she answered. "That blind date I set you up on back in March with my friend's little brother, the one you stood up. And then he never made it to dinner either. This is that guy."

"It was you?" Tina asked, glancing at Artie.

"You're the girl I was supposed to meet?" he asked in reply.

"Is that why-?"

"-only you can see me?" Artie finished for her.

They stared at each other in shock for a minute, and then suddenly Artie rounded on Mercedes. "Wait, that's why she looks so familiar to me," he said. "She's Kurt's best friend from college. The one from the wedding."

"You're Sadie?" Tina asked, looking at Mercedes with wide eyes. "You kissed Kurt at his wedding!"

"What?" Mercedes asked in alarm. "How'd you find out about that? No one else was there. No one's ever called me Sadie but Kurt."

"Artie told me," Tina said.

Mercedes appeared visibly shaken, and she looked from Artie's body to Tina in surprise. "Alright, I'm definitely convinced now," she said. "Let's go. I can't let them kill Kurtie's little brother."

Tina and Mercedes launched back into unhooking all of the equipment from Artie's body that they couldn't take with them, Artie coaching Tina through the things she wasn't familiar with. They had just about finished when the doorknob suddenly twisted. It only opened a fraction, but it was enough for them to hear a faintly Spanish-accented woman's voice speaking from outside.

"Shit, it's Santana Lopez," Artie said. "She's here to turn off the machines."

"She's early," Tina said, glancing at her watch. It was only a quarter 'til noon.

"Can't wait to off me," Artie said mutinously.

Tina looked across at Mercedes and whispered, "Keep working. I'm going to go stall." Mercedes flashed her a thumbs-up and went back to work. Tina pulled the lab coat on straighter and walked over to the door. She opened it and stepped out, and found herself face-to-face with a thin, Latina doctor.

"You must be Dr Lopez," Tina said, plastering on a fake smile.

"Yes, and who are you?" Santana replied suspiciously.

"Dr Cohen," Tina stuttered out, trying to sound confident. "Cohen-Chang, that is. Dr Cohen-Chang."

Artie groaned. "She's never going to believe you're a doctor," he said. "Too late now. Uh, tell her Dr Schuester sent you for a consult."

"Dr Schuester called me up here for a final consult," Tina rambled off in what she hoped was a professional-sounding voice. "We're here from Ohio General to give Dr Abrams one last look, to see if he's eligible for our new treatment therapy for coma patients."

Santana scowled and folded her arms over her chest. "I wasn't informed of this," she said.

"You can go check with Dr Schuester," Tina said and shrugged nonchalantly. "He was the one who authorised for my team to be here."

"I think I will," Santana said. Tina felt her heart leap, thinking they'd pulled it off, when Santana pulled a phone from her pocket. "I've got his number here; I'll just give him a call."

Tina watched as Santana scrolled down through the contacts on her phone, and she felt a surge of panic well up in her. She glanced at Artie, but he didn't seem to have any useful advice. So she did the first thing she could think of to stop Santana Lopez from placing that call: she hauled back and punched her right in the face.

"Tina!" Artie yelped as Santana crumpled to the floor.

"I panicked!" Tina snapped back and then darted into the room again. "M, hurry. Time's up." They dropped down and unlocked the wheels on the bed, and then they both took ahold of the bars on either side of the bed and exchanged quick glances. "It's now or never," she said. Mercedes nodded her approval, and they started pushing for the door.

Artie led the way as Mercedes and Tina steered the hospital bed out of the room. Santana was still slumped in a heap in the hall, but people down at the nurses' station had noticed the disturbance. "This way!" Artie directed, pointing down the hall that led away from the nurses' station. "We can get to the lifts around this way."

Tina relayed the directions to Mercedes and they turned, chasing after Artie with the hospital bed between them. They could hear people chasing after them, and Tina picked up the pace. They'd just rounded the corner, and the lift doors were visible when a large doctor barrelled in their direction.

"I got this girl," Mercedes said breathlessly before letting go of the bed and charging at the man. She caught him around the middle before he could reach the bed and took him to the ground, and Tina clung onto the bed rails as she managed to steer it into an open lift. Pivoting around, she slammed her palm against the "Door Shut" button and watched in relief as they closed. In the same movement, she hit the lobby button, and the lift jerked downward.

"We're gonna make it," she said as they coasted the three floors down, although whether she was convincing Artie or herself, she wasn't sure.

Artie didn't respond, rubbing his chest and seemingly distracted by something. Before she could ask what was bothering him, the doors slid open, and she started shoving the bed forward again. It was harder getting the bed to move now, pulling it from only the one side, but she managed to get it out into the hall.

Remembering the way to the doors they'd come in from, she dug her heels into the ground and felt the bed nearly tilting as it pivoted and she made a hard right. Someone came up next to her and she kicked out, catching them in the leg and making them fall hard. "Just a little further," she murmured and bent over the rail, using her full body strength to push the bed down the hall. They rounded one more corner and found themselves in the main lobby.

"Tee, something's wrong," Artie said from just behind her.

"We're trapped," Tina said in alarm. She glanced around at the four hallways leading off the main circle, and people were clustering in each of them. "Artie, is there any other way we can go?"

Artie didn't answer, and she looked back at him. He was grimacing and clutching at his chest, and both of their eyes went down to his body. "My breathing tube," Artie whispered in horror. "It's gone."

"No," Tina gasped, but she could clearly see it was true. Even as she listened, she could hear the heart monitor clipped to the bed rail slowly falling. "No, Artie, not now. Not like this."

"We tried," Artie said. His spirit was thinning, becoming slowly transparent. Through him, she could see people advancing on them. "It's too late."

"No!" Tina shouted, curling her hand around his. "No, Artie!"

Artie smiled, the same soft, sincere smile he'd given her the night before. "Goodbye, Tee."

"No!" Someone tried to grab her arm from behind, but she elbowed them hard in the chest and bolted to the bedside. At the same time the heart monitor let out a long, monotone note and even she knew what that meant. Pinching Artie's nose shut, she bent over and closed her mouth over his. An electric shock ran through her body, but she was more focused on the feel of his chest rising under her palm as she exhaled.

She lifted her head just slightly to breathe in again, but before she could do anything more, a pair of strong arms hooked around her from behind and hauled her backwards. "Artie!" she shrieked, clawing at the hands that were pulling her away.

"Ma'am, you need to calm down," the man holding her said gruffly.

"No! Artie!"

Beyond the bed, she could see Artie's brother, Kurt, and just a step behind him was another man with tightly curled black hair who was clutching the hands of the little twins she'd seen at their house. Mercedes was being detained by two men in security uniforms. A few feet to the side was Dr Santana Lopez, clutching her bleeding nose, and the Mohawk-sporting Dr Puckerman she'd met the first time she'd come to the hospital. She could see everyone; everyone except Artie. His spirit had vanished with the flat line of the heart monitor.

"Calm down!" the man bellowed in her ear, but Tina wasn't listening. She kept her eyes fixed on Artie's prone figure, even as tears started to blur her vision. Her chest tightened until she could no longer scream his name and she could barely manage to gasp for breath. Sobs built up in her stomach, making her double over in her captor's grip until she was practically being held off the ground by him, incapable of standing on her own.

All of this way, everything they'd been through, and it ended like this. Her heart felt like it was breaking in her chest. She'd come all this way only to lose him at the last possible second. It wasn't fair.

_Bu-beep._

Tina's head shot up, and she wiped her face against her shoulder to clear away the tears. The lobby had gone oddly still, all of the commotion of a second ago hesitating in anticipation.

_Bu-beep._

"Oh my God," Kurt gasped out, covering his mouth with his hands.

It seemed impossible, but the heart monitor was steadily picking up in speed. Tina froze, waiting with bated breath. Kurt slowly walked over to the bedside and took his brother's hand. "Artie, are you with us?" he asked, his voice thick and shaking.

The entire building seemed to be holding its breath for the next ten seconds. And then Artie's head shifted slightly, and his eyes slowly cracked open. "Kurt?" he rasped out.

Kurt let out a choked laugh. "Hey Artie, welcome back," he said, squeezing Artie's hand and pressing it against his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," Artie responded.

Kurt glanced across at Tina and then nodded to the man holding her. He slowly released her and Tina straightened up before approaching the bedside. She stepped up, and Artie's gaze flicked over to her face. He looked different without his glasses, and he was squinting just to make her out, but he was undoubtedly Artie.

"Hey, good to see you again," Tina said with a soft smile.

Artie's forehead furrowed and he frowned. "Yeah. Sorry but – who are you?"

Tina's smile flickered. She looked over at Kurt, who also looked surprised. "Artie, you don't remember Tina?" he asked uncertainly.

"Should I?" Artie asked, glancing back and forth between them. Bemused, Tina reached out for his hand, but Artie pulled his away and continued to frown up at her in confusion. "Kurt, what happened to me?" he asked, apparently dismissing Tina as he turned his attention back to his brother.

Drawing away, Tina held her hand against her chest. He'd forgotten her. The Artie that she'd known had only been his spirit, not his mind. He wouldn't have formed any memories of her. Now that he was back in his body, it was all like a dream that was forgotten the moment he'd woken up.

Tina turned around and fled the hospital. No one tried to stop her, and even if they had, she would've fought her way to freedom. She ran and kept running until she'd reached Mercedes' van. Clambering into the open back area, she curled up against the wall, hugging her legs to her chest. Not knowing anything else to do, Tina buried her face in her knees and let the tears escape.

It was all over.


	13. In the End

Artie paused on the walk in front of the house, staring up at the place with a smile on his face. It had been three months since he'd woken up in the hospital and after weeks of recovery and physical therapy and rehabilitation, he had finally been released to go home. There had been a few small modifications to the house while he was gone, including the addition of ramps in place of the front steps, but it looked just like the house he'd left behind that fateful night just short of a year ago.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked from behind. He was toting a duffel bag with all of Artie's things that he'd had with him in the hospital over his shoulder, while on the other side of the car his brother-in-law, Blaine, was climbing up out of the driver's seat.

"Just glad to be home," Artie replied with a grin.

Artie adjusted his gloves and then grabbed the wheels of his new wheelchair. It was still a bit uncomfortable trying to work the wheelchair, but he was starting to get the hang of it well enough. He pushed himself up the walk – grateful that Blaine had come by earlier that morning and shovelled the thin layer of ice and snow off – and after awkwardly managing the shallow ramp he unlocked the front door and got inside.

Everything looked exactly the way it always had. His favourite throw blanket was folded over the arm of the sofa, and his movie collection was arranged on a shelf by the television. The curtains had been pulled back and the room was filled with bright wintry sunlight. It all looked just like it should, and yet as he pushed himself around the living room, he couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"Is something missing?" Artie asked.

"No," Kurt answered, setting the duffel bag on the sofa cushions. "Everything's exactly where you left it. We made sure that after the renovations contractor had left he put everything back where it was."

Artie nodded and shrugged off the feeling. "Must just be because it's been so long," he reasoned with himself.

"Do you need help with anything?" Kurt asked, hovering around anxiously.

"No, I think I'm just going to get settled back in," Artie responded. "Get the feel of moving around in here."

"Okay, well if you need anything just call and I'll come right over," Kurt said. "You have all of your medications, right? And that medical pager? So if anything happens, you can just press that, and someone will come by and help you. You've gone over all of the warning signs, and you know what to do if your back starts acting up, right?"

"I've got it, Kurt," Artie said with a hint of amusement. "I am a doctor, after all."

"Alright, and that hospice nurse will come by later tonight," Kurt continued rambling. "Is that everything? Have we got it all taken care of?"

"Kurt," Blaine cut in, and he gave his husband a pointed look. "C'mon, babe, Artie's a big boy. Let's go home and let him get settled." Kurt looked like he was torn for a moment, and then he nodded and accepted Blaine's proffered hand.

"We'll be back around six with dinner," Kurt said. "Just – try to be careful, would you?"

"Don't worry," Artie said and smirked. "I'll behave myself." Kurt rolled his eyes at the comment but didn't argue with him. "I'll see you guys later," Artie said. "Tell the kids I'm excited to see them again."

Kurt and Blaine left with one last farewell and then Artie was finally left on his own for the first time in weeks. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. Even though he tried to tell himself he was just being crazy, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about his house.

Ever since he'd woken up in the hospital, he'd felt these strange nagging doubts in the back of his mind. The doctors had told him – and he had agreed – that it was lingering from the head injury he'd gotten in the accident. His brain was just trying to catch up with everything that had happened. With time, things would eventually go back to normal, or at least as close to normal as his life was possible of getting now.

Still, there was something...

Shaking his head, Artie grabbed the duffel bag from the couch and settled it into his lap. He took off his thick winter gloves – making a mental note that he needed to invest in a pair of fingerless gloves to make it easier – and then pushed himself down to his bedroom. The act of unpacking was more complicated than he had anticipated, but he told himself this was his life now. He was halfway through his things when a strange noise caught his attention.

"What the-?" Artie froze in the act of folding a pair of sweatpants and listened more intently. A second later he heard it again – a long, low cello chord. Frowning, he tossed the pants onto the bed and rolled himself out of the bedroom. The cello music had gotten louder, and a violin and saxophone had joined in. It was slightly muffled by the walls, but he got the sudden sense that he knew this song.

"The song from my dreams," he concluded breathlessly, pausing in the middle of the hallway. The song had been haunting his dreams for months, even before his accident. It took a second, but he immediately placed it as coming from the spare room. He pushed himself over and then tentatively reached out and opened the door.

The room beyond was unrecognisable. It had once been a blank, grey room apart from the wide windows. The walls now layered with acoustic foam and the windows had been decorated by handpainted music notes. Against one wall were an elaborate electric keyboard set and a collection of recording microphones. The music he'd heard before was coming from a computer on a custom-built desk and shelves, with the most impressive recording and speaker set-up he'd ever seen. He didn't fail to notice that everything was at just the right height for him.

Standing off to one side, polishing Artie's old Les Paul that had been stowed away in the closet, was that Asian woman who had been there the day he'd woken up in the hospital. She looked just the way he remembered her, with her long black hair streaked with blue and a black lace top. When he came in, she looked up and smiled.

"What is all this?" Artie asked.

"It's your own music studio," the woman said, shrugging off-handedly. "You'd always wanted to turn this into a music room, right? I thought I'd lend a hand. I pulled some strings with my old music contacts to get this all set up before you got home. The walls and windows have been reinforced to be sound-proof, and all of the equipment is ready to go."

"How – how'd you get in here?" Artie asked.

For some reason, the woman smirked. "The spare key under the little turtle statue in the front garden box," she explained, pulling a small bronze key from her pocket.

Artie stared around, unsure of exactly what to do. He didn't know this woman, although she apparently knew him well. She had been there the day he'd woken up, after all. Kurt had asked him a few times if he had remembered her, but if he'd had any memories of this woman, they were gone now, and Kurt could never tell him any reason he should know her. "Uh, thanks," he said awkwardly. "It's incredible, it really is. I don't really know what to say. It's, uh, Tina, right?"

"Don't worry about it," Tina said with a shrug. "It's the least I could do." She rocked on her heels for a second and then smiled tightly. "Well, I, uh – I should probably be going." She tucked her hands into her pockets and walked around Artie, heading for the door.

"Tina, wait!" Artie said, pulling on one wheel to spin himself around. She had stopped in the doorway and was looking back at him. Although she was clearly trying to keep her expression neutral, her eyes were alight with hope. Artie hesitated. He'd called out to her because he'd felt some lurching terror in his chest as she'd walked away from him, but now he couldn't explain that fear. It was stupid and irrational and completely groundless. So he passed it off by using the easiest scapegoat he could think of. "Can I have my spare key back?"

The light in Tina's eyes flickered out, but she forced a smile and pulled the key from her pocket. "Right, sorry, forgot," she said and walked over to him. He craned his neck to look up at her – he still wasn't quite used to his new stature. "Here." She held out her hand, and Artie opened his palm beneath it. With a short smile, Tina set the key in his palm.

For a brief second their hands touched, palms pressed flat against each other, and Artie suddenly felt a burst of tingles shoot up his arm. The contact felt familiar and –  _right_.

All at once, memories exploded in his mind: fighting, the exorcist, Rachel the psychic, the bar, the restaurant, the hospital, the music studio. He and Tina were at a private dinner booth, laughing over a plate of spaghetti. They were lying in bed together, their hands pressed together until she fell asleep. He leant forward and kissed her cheek as she slept peacefully in front of him, whispering a final thank you to her. They were in a supply closet, and she had just told him she loved him. She bent over and kissed him at the hospital, and he had suddenly felt himself being pulled back into his body.

Artie's eyes snapped open, gasping for breath. His gaze flicked up to Tina, and as their eyes locked, the nagging feeling in his chest disappeared. "It wasn't a dream," he said in awe. It seemed ridiculous and impossible, but somehow he knew it was true. He could just feel it. "Everything that happened, when I was in a coma, it was real."

Tina smiled, the hopeful glow in her eyes back as she pressed her palm more firmly against his. "You remember?"

"Tee," he said, and her eyes turned moist. "I'm so sorry I forgot you."

"It's okay," she said, kneeling in front of him so they were closer to the same height. "I'm just so glad you're back." She placed a hand on either side of his face and kissed him, and Artie felt electric sparks coursing through him as he returned the gesture eagerly. If he hadn't trusted his memories, this kiss surely made him believe that it had all happened. This sort of passion and connection couldn't be imagined.

"Stay with me?" Artie asked when they finally broke apart. "I know it's moving fast for me to ask you that, but I just – it feels right. This house feels empty and wrong without you here. I knew that even before I remembered. It feels like you belong here. With me."

Tina smiled. "Well I  _have_  gotten pretty fond of this house," she admitted playfully.

A broad grin spread across Artie's face, and he bent forward to give her another quick kiss. "That's great," Artie said honestly, squeezing her hands in his. "Because I love you, Tee."

"I love you too, Artie," she responded sincerely.

For a brief second, Artie's smile flickered and his eyes cast down at his legs. "Even like this?" he asked uncertainly. "I'm not going to walk again, at least not without a lot of braces and crutches and practice. I just–"

Tina held a finger against his lips, cutting him off short. With a smile, her hand drifted up to cradle his cheek. "Artie, I loved you even when I couldn't  _touch_  you," she pointed out. "Nothing will change the way I feel."

Artie let out a relieved breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He leant forward to catch her lips once more because he couldn't find the proper words to explain the way he was feeling. There were no words to describe the way his chest was swelling, and his heart was triple-beating, and a beautiful, intoxicating warmth had filled his every atom.

A sudden silence filled the room, and Artie pulled back, glancing at the stereo system in the corner. "The song, it ended," he said, more confused by that than he should rationally be. In his dreams, the song never ended. It was on a loop, repeating the magical chords and notes until he eventually woke. "It really is a beautiful song," he said, his gaze flicking back to her.

"Want me to teach it to you?" Tina asked. He blinked in surprise, and it made her smirk in amusement. "You said you know how to play a little, didn't you? I can teach it to you if you want."

Artie smiled and nodded. "That sounds amazing." She stood and gestured for him to follow as she walked over to the keyboard. Grabbing one of the chairs that had been brought in from the patio when it first snowed, she set it down beside the piano and waited for him to take his spot in front of the keys.

"Alright, the first section here is really simple," she explained. She sat up on her knees in the chair so she could reach across to take his hands. Methodically, she placed his fingers on the proper keys and then instructed him on the pattern. Artie smiled to himself as he determinedly copied what she told him, her hands always hovering over his. She was a terrible teacher, always grabbing his hands and rearranging his fingers whenever he went astray, and even though he had musical training, he had a hard time actually learning anything from her.

Still, the moment was perfect. They were closeted away in their own private sanctuary, filled with all of the things that they both loved. Tina's shoulder was pressed close to his, scooting continually closer the longer they worked until she was very nearly in his lap, and her hands danced across his so her fingertips sent chills through his skin. And even when he screwed up or got distracted, she would look at him and laugh, her eyes bright as she nudged his shoulder playfully and teased him.

Things would still be hard and difficult ahead, and they had a long way to go, but he knew that as long as he had her, he'd found himself a little piece of heaven. Things would be all right, in the end.


End file.
